


Love Will Tear Us Apart

by The_Nature_of_Daylight



Category: Homeland
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anger, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, First Sex, Jealousy, Love, Romance, Smut, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-06 16:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Nature_of_Daylight/pseuds/The_Nature_of_Daylight
Summary: This story starts in Season 5 as Quinn and Carrie are leaving the storage facility having secured her back-up plan. At the end of Season 4, Dar Adal did not help Haqqani escape and Saul did not betray Carrie, but he is disappointed with her decision to leave the Agency and work with Otto During. Otto is not romantically interested in Carrie. There is no jihadist sarin gas plot.UPDATE: Apologies to readers for not posting the next chapter yet. I'm currently having some health issues (don't worry, I'll be fine). Half of Part II was written long ago--this fic will definitely be finished. Due to unforeseen circumstances, it will just take a little longer than I'd planned. Will post a new chapter as soon as I can. Thanks so much for your patience.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to Season 6 because, well, FUCK THAT. This is what should have happened.
> 
> Also, I listen to music when I write. I have a lot of Carrie/Quinn playlists that inspire me. May not be everyone's cup of tea, but if you like music, at the end of each chapter, I note the songs that go along with it if you're interested.
> 
> Here is a link to the playlist on Spotify:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/02h28qe2i06eki9nxez0dx0pr/playlist/1wtjnczCnTgGzNMdbLAmvr
> 
> Links are also provided to find them on YouTube (some of the videos are very artsy and interesting.)

  _LOVE WILL TEAR US APAR T_ **_Part I_**

 

 

 

  

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

_Unfuckingbelievable._

Two years in the shit in Syria trying to forget her. Two years trying to forget his momentary lapse in judgement the night of the funeral. The night he had fooled himself into thinking they might have a shot, that she might actually consider being with him. Two years trying to forget how soft her lips were, how good it had felt to finally hold her in his arms.

Two years of trying to wipe all traces of Carrie Mathison from his mind, and where had it gotten him? Standing right the fuck in front of her now, letting himself be talked into helping her risk everything to find out who had put her on a CIA kill list.

With her imploring grey eyes staring up into his, he realized what he’d been trying to deny to himself ever since her name came up in his kill box -- that he was still in love with her, and therefore, he was fucked.

“Quinn, I have to know,” she pleaded.

_And I have to help you, because I never fucking learn._

“Fine, we’ll test the drop. If it checks out, promise me you’ll get on the fucking train.”

“Ok, I promise. Just do one other thing for me”

“Christ, what now?”

“Wear your vest.”

He opened his mouth to protest but then shut it, pursing his lips. It was pointless to argue with her when she was like this, so fine, he’d humor her. It meant they had to circle back to the garage, or as Carrie referred to it, “that dungeon where you held me prisoner”.

“You mean the place I hid you to save your life.”

“Well, your hospitality left a lot to be desired. Did you really need to handcuff me to the bed?” she snorted, irritated.

He was about to make a sarcastic response when she abruptly changed the subject.

“Why Germany?” she asked, turning to look at him as he drove.

“Huh?”

“Why did you want to come to Germany and work for Saul? After two years in Syria, I imagine you could have picked any assignment”.

“It’s what I do, Carrie. He said he needed someone he could trust.”

“So the fact that I’m here, too, that’s just a coincidence?”

“Yep,” he lied.

Truthfully, he had almost turned Saul down when he found out she was here. Almost.

After arriving in Berlin, he held out five days before he tracked her down and followed her home from work one night. He was shocked to see how much Franny had grown. There was a particular ache in his throat watching the two of them together. Then of course, there was the good-looking lawyer boyfriend. Quinn had gone out and gotten shit-faced that night for the first time since getting back from Syria, going home with some random woman and having a completely unsatisfying fuck up against the wall in her apartment.

Carrie started to say something and stopped, turned instead to look out the car window.

“You’re right. I guess it doesn’t really matter now.”

Except he knew that it did.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  

Inside the post office, Quinn waited in line to drop off the envelope containing proof of Carrie’s “death”, her lifeless body slumped against the wall with his blood smeared down the side of her face. When he walked out, Carrie was waiting in the driver’s seat of the car for him. He made it halfway across the street before he saw the green BMW, moving slowly, its window coming down and a gun pointing out.

The shot flattened him on his back before he could draw his weapon and then Carrie was crashing backwards into the car, throwing the driver off balance. Quinn managed to fire three shots through the door, killing him.

His chest was burning and he couldn’t breathe for an agonizing minute. Carrie got out to help him up and into the car. Then she went to get the driver’s cell phone and took a picture of him before getting back in, her hands shaking slightly as she gripped the steering wheel.

While she weaved in and out of traffic, Quinn grappled with the straps on the vest and managed to pull it open, exhaling loudly with relief. His chest was still throbbing where the bullet had hit the plate. He was pissed.

“Motherfucker, that’s TWICE in one week!”

“Twice?” Carrie glanced at him, confused.

“Yes! Or don’t you remember shooting me in the woods?”

“Oh, right. Fuck, I’m sorry Quinn. But now you know I was right. Someone’s inside your operation.“

“Yeah, and whoever wanted you dead wants me dead now, too.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

So it was the Russians, but why?

Quinn had gone to Astrid to see if she could help them identify the guy in the photo. He turned out to be a contract assassin who had recently started doing freelance jobs for the SVR. When she called to tell him, she mentioned that there was a demonstration happening at the Russian embassy that might be connected. Apparently the same hacker who penetrated Berlin station had crashed the embassy’s website, replacing it with compromising footage of one of the consulars.

 

There was also a message containing allegations that the SVR had killed Katja Keller, the hacker’s friend, in an attempt to buy classified CIA documents. The Russians were dismissing it all as baseless.

 

“It’s starting to make sense now,” Carrie said when he told her.

 

“What is?”

 

“Well, think about it. The stuff Laura Sutton published last week was only part of what was hacked out of Berlin station.”

 

“So there was something in the additional documents that the SVR didn’t want you to see,” Quinn guessed.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“And what might that be?”

 

“No clue, which is why I need to go talk to Laura and see if her source will show me what he has.” She started putting on her jacket.

 

“I’m coming with you.”

 

“No Quinn, you’ll spook her. She’ll never let me near her source if you’re with me. I have to go alone. I’ll be fine. No one is looking for me thanks to you.”

 

She got her way, of course she did. But she’d been gone for hours now and he was getting pissed. And worried.

 

Why the fuck did he let her do this to him? Drive him crazy with equal parts frustration, worry, and want. He had to admit that sometimes even arguing with her aroused him. The way she stood looking up at him, hands on her hips, willful and determined. Her insolent yet kissable mouth, those soft strands of hair that she tucked behind her ears, her lithe body... He tried to push away those images by methodically going through and organizing his kits, something he did when he needed to focus.

 

Inevitably, though, his mind drifted back to the night of the funeral. Sometimes he imagined a different outcome. Pulling her back against him, whispering in her ear how desperately he needed her in his bed that night. Taking her home, undressing her slowly, finally being allowed to kiss, caress, and explore her body until she came in his arms. He would have made love to her all night - he wouldn’t have been able to stop.

 

_Except she didn’t want you, asshole,_ he thought bitterly.

 

Quinn thought of Jonas being allowed to do all those things to her and felt a sharp moment of intense jealousy, but he was well-practiced at suppressing those feelings. He couldn’t let himself go there.

 

Just then he heard the door opening. Picking up his gun, he backed up and silently slid along the wall, waiting at the edge. Carrie came around the corner and startled a bit at seeing him.

 

“We really should stop pointing guns at each other, Quinn. It never turns out well for us,” she quipped.

 

“You were gone a long time,” he said pointedly.

 

“Laura said her source doesn’t have the documents anymore, that his partner double crossed him and tried to make a deal with the Russians. I had to go to Saul and ask if he would get me a copy of what was taken, but first I waited for him to lose his fucking tail. You know the agency’s having him followed?”

 

“What?” Quinn was still trying to wrap his mind around the whole clusterfuck.

 

“I know, right? Saul didn’t even believe me, that’s the thing. He threw my work with the Foundation in my face and was dismissive of the whole Russia thing. I’m not sure what to do now. Fuck, I need to see those documents.”

 

Carrie sat down on the bed, running her hands through her hair in frustration.

 

Quinn walked over to her, stood with his arms folded.

 

“What you should do is get on the train and get the hell outta Dodge while your cover‘s still intact. Let me handle it.”

 

“Handle it how, Quinn? You don’t understand this anymore than I do, and now you’re a target. Like it or not, we’re both in this now. We should stay together,” she stared up at him resolutely.

 

The irony of her words was not lost on him.

 

“Fine, Carrie,” he sighed, “but then you’re not going out again by yourself, it’s too dangerous.”

 

“Ok, fine.”

 

He looked skeptical.

 

“Jesus Christ, Quinn, I said ‘ok’. What? Do you wanna handcuff me to the bed again?”

 

“Would you just stop with the handcuffs already?” he said, rolling his eyes.

 

Putting his hands on his knees, he bent down in front of her face. “They were fucking zip ties, for one, and you had just  SHOT ME IN THE BACK, so yeah, I took some precautions.”

 

“Wow, was I this much of a pussy when you shot ME?” she huffed, laying down on the bed.

 

“Actually, you kinda were,” he goaded her, recalling their fucked up conversation in the elevator at Langley.

 

She sat up to face him again. “Maybe that’s because, unlike you, I wasn’t protected by kevlar. An ACTUAL bullet went through my ACTUAL arm, see,” she said pushing the sleeve of her t-shirt up and revealing the small scar.

 

“Well I can beat that,” he shot back, straightening and tugging his shirt up on the left. He pointed to the scar on the left side of his abdomen. “Remember this? Fun times in Gettysburg. Unlike you, I didn’t have time to lie around the hospital recuperating. We had shit to do.”

 

Carrie stood up in front of him so that he had to take a step back. She reached for the bottom of her shirt and lifted it up slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

 

‘I…...grew a small human in me for nine fucking months, literally had it cut out of my body while I was awake, and was back at work in two weeks.” She pointed to her c-section scar triumphantly.

 

Quinn stared at her for a long, brooding moment.

 

Then, “Fine. You win.”

 

“You know that means you’re the pussy, Quinn” she said smugly as she laid back down and pulled the blanket over her.

 

“How about you shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Carrie,” he called over his shoulder as he went to sit down on one of the stools. “It’ll be morning in a few hours. I'll stay up and watch the door.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for the title comes from a song by Joy Division.
> 
> The songs inspiring this chapter are, in order:  
> 1\. Gun by GusGus  
> https://youtu.be/n-jrbg054VY  
> (Carrie and Quinn meeting again and going to the post office.)
> 
> 2\. The Night We Met by Lord Huron  
> https://youtu.be/aQh9eDcS1-0  
> (Quinn thinking about Carrie while she's gone.)


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

As if things weren’t strange enough, the next day, Saul suddenly changed his mind and got her a copy of the leaked documents, passing it through Otto of all people. Quinn was not happy about Carrie’s boss being involved but Saul hadn’t left them much choice. So now they were on their way to Otto’s estate.

 

“So we find out why they targeted you, then what?” Quinn asked, not looking at her as he drove.

 

“What do you mean? We go back to Saul with proof and we bring the roof down on their heads.”

 

“No, I mean once this is over. Are you going to stay here, keep working for Düring, everything goes back to normal?”

 

“I’m not sure that’s possible anymore,” she sighed. "I think I just wanna go home, get Franny, take her to the cabin, and NEVER leave.”

 

“What about the guy?”

 

“Jonas? I doubt he’d wanna come. Things got a little crazy there for awhile. We broke up.”

 

“Sorry to hear that,” Quinn said in a clipped voice.

 

“Are you?” she asked flatly.

 

“What else do you want me to say, Carrie?”

 

She was irritated by this emotionless robot routine he had been giving her ever since she woke up tied to his fucking bed. Maybe this was what two years in Syria had done to him, but she had a feeling it was more than that. It was like he was punishing her, and for what? For trying to move on with her life after he had fucking abandoned her within days of proposing that they get out together and start a new life?

 

She’d blamed herself at first, thinking she should have told him she was going to Missouri to see her mother, or given him an answer sooner, but she had been terrified at the thought of finally letting herself love someone only to fuck it all up.

 

And she did love him. It took standing outside of Haqqani’s compound, pleading with him not to carry out a plan which was sure to get him killed, to realize that she couldn’t live without him.

 

It was this fear that sent her off on her spontaneous road trip, seeking answers. She had to know if what drove her mother to leave her father, would also drive Quinn away, too. And how could she possibly explain that to him?

 

He’d said he’d seen her at her worst, but had he really? (Now after her night at the cabin with Jonas, she wasn’t so sure.)

 

It had been such a revelation to hear that it was her mother, not her father, who had fucked up her parents’ marriage. Her father’s illness hadn’t been the problem, and maybe hers didn’t have to be either. She knew then and there that her answer was yes. She would tell Quinn that she was scared, but that she wanted to be with him.

 

She had thought about their kiss as she drove back to the motel. Remembered the feel of him pressed against her and felt weak with desire. Carrie wanted more than anything to be back in his arms, in his bed, imagined him kissing her like he had that night, only this time while he was inside her.

 

She dialed his number as she frantically packed, but the call didn’t go through. She dialed again, thinking she had made a mistake. It was when she sent the text and it came back undelivered that she knew.

 

He had finally realized that he’d made a mistake, agreed that she was no good for him. Fucking Syria had sounded more appealing to him than a life with her. Ten minutes into her drive back, she had to pull over on the side of the road and throw up.

 

Once back in Virginia, she had gone straight to Dar Adal with the faint hope of getting a message to him, but it had been too late. Dar told her they’d gone dark an hour ago. He was oddly kind, for once not antagonizing her with a snarky comment, and having Dar Adal look at her with pity was more than she could take.

 

She cried a lot that first week, tried to figure out a way to get word to him, but Syria was a black hole with non-existent networks and no feasible way to track him down. And who’s to say that even if she could get a message to him, that he would want to hear from her. She had reacted impulsively and he got a glimpse into what life with her might really be like, decided he’d rather take his chances in a fucking war zone.

 

It was only after she began making her own plans to exit the CIA and start a new life for her and Franny, that the anger set in.

 

They could have done this together, but instead, he gave up on her after 48 hours and signed up for another mission. Had he really meant anything he said? Was it really her he wanted, or just a crutch to help him get out? She had realized she was in love with him just in time for him to break her heart and leave her. She felt like a fool.

 

Finally, after she and Franny were settled in Berlin, the anger dissipated and there was only the question of what might have been that stayed in the back of her mind.

 

She found some happiness with Jonas, but there were still nights when she lay awake thinking of Quinn, out in the desert somewhere. She kept track of troop movements and local conflicts in the region, trying to figure out what he might be doing. She wondered if he thought about her sometimes, if at all.

 

Then, just like that, they were thrown violently back together with no time to talk about anything that had happened. Working together again, surviving, just like old times.

 

Only he was different towards her now, colder. He kept his distance, often looked away when she was talking to him. She had slipped back into thinking she deserved it, but now it was starting to piss her off.

 

She fought the tears that were threatening to well up and was relieved to see Otto’s driveway ahead.  

 

“Turn there,” she pointed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Inspiring this Chapter:
> 
> 1\. Eden by Hooverphonic
> 
> https://youtu.be/bWPOLL_Rr8U


	3. Chapter 3

 

Otto greeted them in the large foyeur of his home. Carrie had basically told him the truth about Quinn - that she had reached out for help from a former colleague who was in town, someone that she trusted, and that he would be traveling with her. As she had hoped, Otto didn’t press her for details. After pouring them some coffee in the kitchen, Otto handed Carrie the thumb drive and showed them to his study where they could go through the documents in private.

 

“Did you ask Laura to bring Numan?” Carrie asked hopefully.

 

“Yes. They’ll be here in a few hours. Can I get either of you anything else?”

 

“No, I think we’re fine, thanks. We need to get to work,” Quinn said, eyeing the computer.

 

“Certainly. I’ll leave you to it.” Otto closed the study doors.

 

Quinn looked around and raised his eyebrows at Carrie.

 

“What?”

 

“Nice digs. Beats all the shitholes I’m used to working in.”

 

“Yeah, well, from what I’ve seen, the bar for that isn’t set too high,” she grumbled, taking a sip of her coffee and sitting down at the desk.

 

Quinn dragged a chair over and sat next to her. His leg brushed against hers and she startled briefly, the contact sending an unexpected thrill through her body. He pulled off his jacket, grimacing from the ache in his chest, and she couldn’t help but notice his taut arms and the cut of his abs as his shirt rose up.

 

He was just so fucking sexy without even trying. How the hell did he do that? She felt her attraction to him threatening to distract her.

 

_Fuck him and his beautiful eyes and incredible body. He took off on you, remember? He’s just here because he got dragged into this._

 

She shifted her leg away from his and tried to keep her voice nonchalant.

 

‘You know, Quinn, I’m not even sure what I’m looking for yet. If you want to try and get some sleep, now might be a good time,” she said, nodding at the large recliner chair in the corner. “You didn’t sleep at all last night.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Typical stoic Quinn. But he yawned despite himself.

 

“Just lie the fuck down. Who knows how long this will take. If I find anything I’ll wake you up.”

 

“Maybe for just a little while,” he relented, heading over to the recliner. He was out within five minutes.

 

At one point Otto popped his head in and saw Carrie watching Quinn while he slept in the chair. She got up and went to put a blanket over the exhausted-looking man, stood there for a moment looking down at him. Otto closed the door quietly. _So that’s why she hasn’t asked about Jonas_ , he thought knowingly.

 

Carrie was surprised to feel nostalgic while going through the documents. She was reminded of her early days in the agency, recruiting assets and gathering intel, all the strong work she had done. And for the first time, she missed it. Several hours in, she was tired, eyes weary from staring at the screen. There was a lot of information. She was on her third cup of coffee.

Finally, something caught her attention. A contact report routed through Berlin Station on an old asset of hers from Baghdad, Samir Khazil. He’d been a judge at the Ministry of Justice before it was bombed. Apparently he had sent out an urgent signal to her five months ago, but had refused to speak to whoever went in her place. The Berlin Station Chief, Allison Carr, had been Carrie’s colleague in Baghdad. Carrie had taken over her post. She wondered briefly why Allison, who had handed him off to her initially, hadn’t contacted Samir herself.

 

She picked up her phone and dialed the number listed in the report. He was happy to hear from her.

 

“Carrie, darling, my little Oriole, it’s good to talk to you finally! I sent up the distress rocket. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t hear from you,” he sounded hurt, but relieved.

 

“I’m sorry, Samir, but Oriole’s on the shelf. Oriole had flown the coop.” She felt sad as she said it.

 

“Well someone could have told me, don’t you think?” he scolded.

 

“Again, I’m sorry. What is it you wanted to tell me?”

 

“Remember the name Ahmed Nazari?”

 

“Yes of course, the lawyer, Allison’s asset. He died in the bombing at the Ministry of Justice.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes he did, Samir. I’m fairly certain.”

 

“Well then he’s risen from the dead. I saw him, Carrie. Alive and well.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Quinn was pacing back and forth, rubbing his hand over his chin. He had the obituary of Ahmed that she had printed out and was studying it.

 

“So someone faked his death, got him out of Iraq, and set him up with a new identity?” You think that’s what the Russians are trying to hide? Why the fuck would they care about some low-level Iraqi lawyer?”

 

“The fuck if I know, but there has to be a connection. We need to find him.”

 

As if on cue, Laura and her hacker friend arrived. Carrie went out in the hall to talk to them. Numan looked uncomfortable and kept his arms folded around his backpack as he took in the surroundings.

 

“I could really use your help. Thanks for coming,” she told them earnestly.

 

“I want to know what I’m helping you with, first” Numan said.

 

”We both do,” Laura chimed in.

 

“After, maybe then you could help me. I want to find my friend, Korsnick,” Numan’s worried face made Carrie hesitate before telling him.

 

“Your friend is dead,” Quinn beat her to it. He was standing in the doorway of the study.

 

Numan turned very pale as he blinked at Quinn. “What? How do you know this?”

 

“The Russians killed Katja Keller getting the leaked documents. Korznick is a loose end they would never leave untied.”

 

“I’m sorry, Numan. We’re actually trying to get the people who killed your friends. That’s why you need to help us,” explained Carrie.

 

“So the leaked documents, I assume you have them? Let’s see them.” Laura, as usual, got straight to the point.

 

“Laura, I can’t.”

 

“That was the deal, Carrie. Our help for full disclosure. Why do you think I came all the way out here?”

 

“That’s not gonna happen. She got them from a colleague who trusts her, she can’t betray that trust,” Quinn took a step forward.

 

“We’ll see what Otto says,” Laura fumed, heading for the kitchen.

 

“She’s almost as charming as you are when you don’t get your way,” he said to Carrie, nodding after Laura and motioning Numan into the study. Carrie flipped him off, annoyed. She followed them in.

 

“Who are you, again?” Numan asked, sitting down at the desk and opening his laptop.

 

Quinn placed both hands on the desk in front of Numan and bent down so their eyes were level.

 

“I’m the guy who’s tired of getting shot at because of all this bullshit you started with your little hacking adventure. Now do us a favor and help us find who we’re looking for.” He shoved the photo of Ahmed at him.

 

“This...this is an obituary,” Numan sputtered, confused.

 

“You breached a CIA firewall. Shouldn’t be that hard for you to locate a dead guy.” Quinn’s patience was running thin.

 

“Someone faked his death at the Ministry of Justice bombing in Iraq,” Carrie said, stepping in and giving Quinn a look to back off. The last time she saw him this exasperated, someone ended up with a knife in their hand.

 

“See if you can pick up a trail after that. He had a wife, last I heard she went to live in Amman, Jordan. Jamilla. Jamilla Nazari.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs inspiring this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Into the Black by Chromatics  
> (Carrie reviewing the CIA files, watching Quinn sleep.)
> 
> https://youtu.be/rSycSBYHitc


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

So he found the guy, or at least found his wife, in Amsterdam. Banking records showed her husband’s pension being automatically rerouted through an account in Amman to an ABN bank in the Zeeburg District of the city.

 

Numan hadn’t found an address yet, but Carrie had another former asset living as an expat there who could probably help them.

 

It was a long drive. Of course Carrie was ready to take off then and there, but Quinn wanted some time to think. They had no idea what they were walking into.

 

“The SVR doesn’t know we’ve seen the documents,” he reasoned. “If Ahmed’s there, he’s been happily dead in Amsterdam for some time now, I’m sure he’ll still be there if we leave at dawn.”

 

Carrie eyed him doubtfully but gave in. She must be exhausted if she’s giving up so easily, he thought.

 

Otto offered them his guest rooms to have a shower and rest for a few hours before heading out. A shower sounded pretty good to Quinn right now, and although he found Carrie’s new friends annoying as fuck, he could deal with it as long as she was safe.

 

When he was toweling off in his room, he heard voices outside in the hall. He cracked the door and saw a man standing outside Carrie’s room, gesticulating with his hands in frustration. It was Jonas. Carrie opened her door and let him in.

 

Fuck, was this really happening? Was he gonna have to lay here just down the hall from her while she probably had make-up sex with her boyfriend? If so, he sure as hell wasn’t gonna be sober for it.

 

He quickly pulled on his pants and shirt and went back downstairs. It was late. Laura and Numan had left and there was just a small light on in the kitchen. He was about to start searching the cabinets when he sensed he wasn’t alone.

 

Otto was outside on the patio. He held up a bottle of wine. “Is this what you’re looking for?” he called, through the open door.

 

“Got anything stronger?”

 

“The cabinet above the wine rack.”

 

Quinn grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass and came out on the patio, sitting in the chair next to him. He was in no mood for conversation, but Otto had been helpful to them and he didn’t want to be a complete asshole.

 

“Thanks,” he said curtly, shooting back his first drink and pouring another one.

 

Otto lifted his brow bemusedly.

 

“It’ll help me sleep,” Quinn offered, annoyed that he had to explain.

 

They were silent for awhile, Quinn staring off into the distance, trying to shut Carrie out of his mind.

 

Then Otto spoke as if he could hear his thoughts.

 

“You know, he’s not right for her. I think she understands that now.”

 

“Is that what you think she’s doing up there now? Understanding him?” he remarked calmly.

 

Otto chuckled. “I doubt he’ll be staying.”

 

Quinn glanced over at him.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, Jonas is a good man, but he’s a lawyer. Risk averse, safe, prefers things to fit in neat little boxes. I think she was trying too hard to fit into one of those boxes. She was holding herself back with him.”

 

Quinn finished his drink and poured himself another. He wondered if it was true, not that it would change anything between them. He shrugged and kept his tone even.

 

“Honestly, Carrie’s personal life is not my concern right now.”

 

“Really?” Otto looked at him ruefully. “So the fact that she’s upstairs in a room with her recent lover and you’re down here desperately trying to get to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey is just a coincidence?”

 

Quinn’s jaw clenched and he looked away.

 

“Maybe he’s not the guy for her, but trust me, I’m not the guy either.” With that he finished off the rest of his drink and stood up to go back inside.

 

He put the whiskey back in the cabinet and started to head back up. He was just in time to see Jonas leaving through the front door and was a little disgusted by how relieved he felt. Fuck if Otto wasn’t right.

 

When he got to the top of the stairs, Carrie was coming out of his room. She was wearing a tank top and her hair was knotted up loosely. In her bare feet and loose pants, she seemed even tinier. She looked like she’d been crying.

 

“Where’d you go?” she asked wistfully.

 

“Just having a drink with our host. I saw Jonas leave. Everything ok?”

 

“We had some unfinished business I guess. He just doesn’t understand why I’m doing this, he doesn’t understand...” She didn’t finish her sentence, just shook her head.

 

 _You,_ Quinn wanted to say.

 

The whiskey was making him dangerously unguarded. He wanted to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair, tell her how much he had missed her. Staring at her lips, he wanted to do a lot of things right now.

 

He started to reach out and touch her arm when she said,

 

“I know I hurt him. He didn’t deserve that”

 

_But I did?_

 

She hadn’t cared too much about HIS feelings when she took off across the country. She wouldn’t even tell him the truth when he had called, that his idea of getting out together was not what she wanted. Reliving the pain of rejection from two years ago, he took a step back. “Well, you need to get over it. We’ve got shit to do and you can’t get distracted.”

 

Carrie looked hurt but what the fuck did she expect? Did she really expect him to comfort her over her ex-boyfriend?

 

She nodded her head tearfully and turned to go back to her room. He closed his door and laid down on the bed. Why did it always have to be so fucking hard with her?

 

He remembered the nights in Syria he’d spent thinking about her. 

 

After their kiss, his fantasies had only had intensified. The first few weeks, he often imagined what their lovemaking might have been like that night. As thoughts of her, of what he had been allowed the slightest taste of but could never have, grew increasingly painful, his mind went to darker places.

 

It was where he went now, picturing her lying in bed just down the hall, mere feet from him. He imagined slipping quietly into her room, undressing, and crawling on top of her. He would put his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet as she woke, pulling her pajama bottoms down and feeling himself grow hard as she fought against him.

 

Then, as he pinned her arms down, he would growl at her that he was not the good guy that she thought he was and that he was done with the bullshit, and unless she told him to get off her now, she was going to be his. In this fantasy, as in all his others, she never said no. He moaned and swore as he had her, and had her, and had her, fucking her as much as his body allowed him throughout the night. 

She came again and again underneath him, saying his name and only one other thing, 

“What took you so long?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs inspiring this chapter include:
> 
> 1\. Smoke Filled Lungs by Basecamp  
> https://youtu.be/NCOwaVDfyhU


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

The next morning, Quinn was putting coffee in a thermos Otto had left out for them when Carrie came downstairs. She was wearing a black scoop neck t-shirt and jeans. She looked young and vulnerable, and he regretted being such an ass to her last night. He was also ashamed of the fantasies he had allowed himself, and couldn’t meet her eyes.

 

She seemed to have forgotten all about their discussion in the hallway, however. She thanked him when he handed her the coffee and grabbed some yogurt out of the fridge. They left quietly. Otto had lent them one of his cars, and so far they were making good time.

 

“So that’s the plan. We’ll meet up with my asset, see what he knows, try to find the house. If he’s there, we break in, look for something we can use to get him to talk.”  Carrie was searching a detailed map of the district that she had printed off the computer.

 

“We?” Quinn said dubiously. “You mean ME. I’LL break in. You’re staying out of sight.”

 

“Fine.”

 

They spoke here and there. He asked about what had gone down in Lebanon and was impressed, even a little proud, when she told him about getting Hezbollah to guarantee the Foundation safe passage, and how when it all went sideways, she had gotten Otto and his crew out of the shit. He both hated the risks she took, and loved her for them.

 

She tried to ask him about Syria but he shut her down. He didn’t like to talk about what had happened there. Syria was a dark fucking hole that he still wasn’t quite sure how he crawled out of. It was one of the most difficult times of his life. The first few months he’d been so lonely for her that he felt a physical ache in his body. Eventually, mercifully, he went numb.

 

They reached Zeeburg District around 10am. Esam, Carrie’s former asset, was waiting for them in his cab by the waterfront. As soon as they got in, he was eager to tell them what he’d found.

 

“It was too easy. Third call I made was to the Iraqi Assistance Project. Guess what—turns out she’s the bloody treasurer! Not only that, but using her real name, Jamilla Nazari.”

 

“You’re kidding,” Carrie was stunned.

 

“Nope. Not even trying to hide.”

 

“Is there a husband in the picture?” Quinn asked.

 

“She’s a widow.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“No, lives alone.”

 

“You know where?”

 

“Of course,” Esam smiled proudly. “Should we go there now?”

 

“We should,” Quinn responded. He liked this guy.

 

They parked down the street from the home. It was across from the park in a nice area, full of trees and gardens.

 

“Lot of house for a hairdresser,” Quinn observed.

 

“How do you know that’s what she does?” Esam asked.

 

“It’s what she did in Baghdad,” Carrie replied, just as Jamilla emerged, headed in their direction. When she turned the corner, Quinn showed Esam the picture of Ahmed.

 

“We need you to knock on the door and see if he answers. Ask if someone called for a cab.”

 

He did well. They watched him walk over to the house and have a brief exchange with whoever opened the door. He hurried back to the cab, looking discreetly around the area.

 

Getting in, he nodded. “It’s definitely him. So, now you just go stick the gun in his face, right?”

 

Yeah, Quinn definitely liked Esam.

 

“He’s got no reason to talk to us. We need to get something on him first,” he explained patiently.

 

A few minutes later, Ahmed came out of the house with a dog. Quinn raised his eyebrows at Carrie. “Looks like it’s our lucky day.”

 

“Stay here,” he told her.

 

“Esam, follow him and call me the second he heads back. Don’t get too close. Remember, he’s already seen you.”

 

With that, Quinn got out of the cab and headed down a side street, turning into the alley behind the house. There was no one around as he scaled the wall into the backyard. 

 

Using his gun to bust out a window in the back door, he reached inside and unlocked it. No security at all. Whoever helped Ahmed get out of Iraq didn’t seem to consider him that valuable anymore. The house was small and he moved through it quickly. Upstairs, he found an office and was going through the desk when something caught his eye. Fabric draped over a safe and fuck him, it was unlocked. There was a laptop inside.

 

He was shoving it into a pouch when his phone buzzed. It was Esam.

 

“Two men just put Ahmed into a car. He looked scared.”

 

“Shit. Can you follow them?”

 

“No. I’m on foot”

 

“Ok, get back to the cab.”

 

Then another text, this time from Carrie.

 

*SVR here. Get out now*

 

Quinn heard them downstairs and quickly found a window in the bathroom that led onto the roof. Dropping down into the alley, he ducked under some trees just before they fired shots at him. He came around the corner and almost ran smack into Carrie, her face panicked.

 

“Are you ok?” she asked, checking him up and down.

 

“I told you to stay out of sight,” he responded, irritated, grabbing her arm and pulling her quickly towards the street. “Walk fast.”

 

He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and put his arm around her, hoping they’d blend in as a couple, but it was more a protective instinct than anything else that made him pull her close.

 

When they reached the cab, Carrie opened the door to slide in but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back, nodding at the front seat. Esam was sitting there lifelessly with his head bent forward, his throat slashed.

 

_Those motherfuckers._

 

“Oh my god, oh my god. Fuck.” Carrie was shaking.

 

“Carrie, We’ve got to move,” Quinn urged, pushing her towards the sidewalk. After making sure they weren’t being followed, they returned to Otto’s car. There was nothing else to do but head back to Berlin.

 

“What the fuck is going on, Quinn?” Carrie was raking her hands through her hair, completely  horrified that they’d just gotten her asset killed.

 

“Carrie, calm down. Breathe.”

 

“These people are not fucking around. They won’t stop until they kill us, too. And for what? We don’t even know. God, what if they go after Franny like you said?” She was starting to panic.

 

“I won’t let that happen,” he told her. “Nothing is going to happen to you or Franny.” His jaw was clenched. He felt a surge of anger at the thought of someone getting near either one of them. They would have to go through him first.

 

Her breathing slowed and she was looking over at him, seeming to calm down. It was then that he noticed he’d been holding her hand. He reluctantly pulled it away, gesturing toward the laptop in the bag on the floor.

 

“You should call Otto and see if he can track down Numan for us. We’re gonna need his help to get into Ahmed’s computer. There might be something on there that we can use.”

 

Carrie nodded.

 

“I’m calling Allison, too. Ahmed was her asset. She might remember something.”

 

“You trust her?” Quinn asked skeptically.

 

“She’s never given me a reason not to.”

 

“Well, don’t mention that I’m with you, just in case. We shouldn’t go back to Berlin, either. We can stop in Rheinsberg for the night. See if she can meet you there tomorrow.”

 

Allison sounded surprised to hear from her. She was hesitant to drive to Rheinsberg, but Carrie pleaded with her and she agreed. They discussed a play they’d used in Baghdad to set up the location. Allison promised to come alone and tell no one.

 

They reached the city in the evening and stopped at a church on a quiet, tree-lined street. Carrie went inside and left instructions for Allison in one of the Bibles. Then, pretending to be traveling as a couple, they checked into the hotel for the night.

 

Quinn eyed the single, king-sized bed when they walked in the room but purposely dropped his bag far away from it. He was used to sleeping on floors, anyway. As he set up both computers on the desk, a Facetime call from Numan came through. He talked them through connecting their computer to Ahmed’s so that he could try to get into it remotely.

 

“Dude’s got heavy security. This could take a while,” he said, typing.

 

“How long is ‘a while’,” Carrie asked impatiently.

 

“Could be a few minutes. A few hours. A few days… You’ll know as soon as I get in.”

 

“Well, we might as well get something to eat,” Quinn said, getting up and reaching for his jacket. He'd spotted a small cafe down the street from the hotel and figured they could both use some food.

 

 “I’m not hungry.”

 

“Carrie, come on, you need to eat something.”

 

“I’m staying here in case he gets through,” she shook her head, curling up in the large chair by the window.

 

“Fine. I’ll bring something back.”

 

As he was leaving, he noticed Carrie staring at her only picture of Franny. She was crying silently as he shut the door behind him. He stood there for a long time, unsure of what to do. What he wanted to do was go back in and hold her, but she never seemed to want that from him.

 

So he would do what he always did, keep her safe whether she liked it or not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs inspiring this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Hey Man Nice Shot by Filter  
> (Breaking into Ahmed's house.)  
> https://youtu.be/o9mJ82x_l-E
> 
> 2\. Do What I Have To Do by Sara McLachlan  
> (Carrie alone in the hotel room, Quinn hesitating outside the door.)  
> https://youtu.be/N1KnE1Zu_84


	6. Chapter 6

Quinn wasn’t gone for long. She was sitting in front of the computer, tapping her fingers impatiently, when he returned with two bags. He handed her one and sat down in the chair, taking out his knife to cut and eat an apple he'd bought. He had brought her some soup and bread and she realized she was starving. She finished all of it and went to brush her teeth, ready to lie down and try to get some sleep.

 

Her mind was reeling from the day, her emotions raw. As soon as she'd seen the SVR thugs enter the house, she had gotten out of the cab and moved closer to provide back-up for Quinn. Hearing the gunshots in the alley had sent her running down the side street, afraid she would find him bleeding on the ground somewhere. When he turned the corner, her relief was so great she almost threw her arms around him. 

 

Seeing Esam with his throat slit in the cab had shaken her, and it was only the fact that Quinn was there, holding her hand and talking her down that got her through it. But then he had pulled away, was back to being distant, focusing on their next steps. He had always been calm and controlled, but it felt like a part of him just wasn’t there.

 

He was just a few feet away and she fucking _missed_ him.

 

She was almost certain he knew she was crying when he left — he didn't miss much when it came to her — but whereas in the past he might have tried to comfort her, now he just seemed indifferent. Last night, after Jonas had left, she had gone to Quinn’s room. She wasn’t even sure why. But during what had felt like an opportunity to tell him that Jonas never understood her like he did, he had shut her down coldly, told her to get over it. This morning, she pretended she had.

 

He’d hurt her again, and now here she was, still hoping for a sign that he cared. She needed to get over it, all right. She needed to stop letting him affect her like this, like she had some ridiculous adolescent crush. And to think she had planned on telling him they could share the bed — it was certainly big enough. Screw him, he could sleep on the floor! He preferred the discomfort of war zones to her anyway, right?

 

Where had she put her damn hair ties? She stomped out of the bathroom over to the bed and started rummaging through her bag. A girl needed hair ties if she was planning on running for the rest of her life she thought, giving a short laugh under her breath. The entire situation was so fucked up it was almost funny.

 

Quinn was still sitting in the chair. He was looking at the picture of Franny she had left next to the computer.

 

“What’s she like now?” he asked quietly.

 

_Oh, now you wanna talk to me? Fine._

 

“She’s great, smart, like nothing gets by her. Curious, stubborn.” Her voice had an edge to it but he didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Sounds like someone I know,” he chuckled.

 

“Knew,” Carrie corrected him sharply. She was still rummaging through her bag and didn’t look up.

 

“What?”

 

“Knew. You knew me. You don’t know me anymore.” Still not looking at him.

 

“Why? Because you have some fancy new job and fuck some hotshot lawyer? Honestly, considering where we are and the situation we’re in, you don’t seem that different to me, Carrie.” He was irritated.

 

Now she absolutely REFUSED to look at him, kept her back to him which she knew would piss him off. Their game had always been confrontation. She knew from how he’d treated her lately that it hurt to just be shrugged off.

 

“I’m not the same person I was two years ago when I fell for your shit,” she asserted.

 

“My WHAT?” he said, getting up and coming over to stand behind her. She kept looking through the bag, trying to find the goddam hair tie.

 

“You heard me. All that bullshit about wanting to get out and start i-don’t-know-what together,” she huffed. “You really had me going.”

 

“Are you fucking serious, Carrie?” he demanded, grabbing the bag and yanking it away from her. “That’s what you think?”

 

She whirled to face him. The rage and pain and heartbreak from the past two years surged through her. She was done avoiding the subject, done with his indifference, done with pretending she wasn’t angry and hurt. Just fucking done.

 

“What was I supposed to think, Quinn? You LEFT me. Dar Adal snapped his fingers and gave you the perfect excuse, didn’t he? And it’s not like you’ve been hiding the fact that you want me out of your life as soon as possible again.”

 

He looked at her incredulously.

 

“Really, Carrie? MY shit? What about yours? You ran first. Got in a car and literally drove a thousand miles away right after I told you that I wanted to be with you. All I asked was that you be straight with me and not string me along if it was gonna be a “no”, and you couldn’t even do that!”

 

“Two fucking hours, Quinn! Two fucking hours until I called you back. But you were gone, checked out. Ditched your phone, packed your shit, and cut me completely out of your life.” She was shaking now, screaming at him with her fists balled up, unable to stop the tears that were threatening to overflow.

 

“YOU.DIDN’T.WANT.ME. You couldn’t have made it any clearer,” his eyes were dark, warning.

 

“You didn’t even give me a chance, you fucking coward,” she spat at him. “I did want to be with you, but the first sign that it might be difficult, might be harder than you thought, that _I_ might be harder than you thought, you couldn’t handle it!”

 

He shook his head.

 

“Fucking off to Missouri is not what you do when you want to be with someone. I called to see how you were doing, even offered to fly out there, and you couldn’t get off the phone fast enough! What other message did you think you were sending?"

 

“I was trying to figure shit out. Why couldn’t you understand that?”

 

“You know what, fuck this, it doesn’t matter now. You got out, got your new job, your new boyfriend, you did just fine,” He was putting his hands up, not trying to hear her.

 

“You keep saying that, ‘it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter’ but you can barely bring yourself to look at me or speak to me. Just because I picked up the pieces after you left and went on with my life? Why do you blame me for that?” Tears were streaming down her face.

 

They were facing each other, standing next to the bed.

 

“BECAUSE YOU BROKE MY FUCKING HEART,” Quinn suddenly shouted at her, his voice breaking towards the end.

 

Carrie was shocked into silence. She knew in that second that she’d made a terrible mistake, misunderstood what had happened completely. They both had. And he’d suffered every bit as much as she had over their failed attempt to be together, maybe more.

 

They had both run, had both fucked it up, not because they didn’t want each other, but because neither of them had ever wanted anything more.

 

Quinn had dropped all pretense of indifference. He looked agonized as he searched her face for some sign that she understood what it had done to him, what it was still doing to him.

 

“Quinn,” she started, reaching out for him.

 

Then he was taking her face in his hands and kissing her with all the need, the desperation, and the want he had been holding back. He kissed her like a man drowning and she was air. It sent a deep wave of desire coursing through her body and she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue sought hers and they breathed each other in.

 

Wanting more of him, she slid her hands under his t-shirt and moved them over his chest and back, feeling his taut muscles and the warmth of his skin. She felt him shiver slightly under her touch, and then he was helping her pull his shirt up over his head. She touched the bruise on his chest from the gunshot, put her lips to it reverently before he took her face in his hands again and kissed her, moving his mouth down her jawline to her neck, his breath coming faster now.

 

Soon he was tugging at her shirt, wanting it off her. It was quickly gone. Carrie's heart was pounding as she felt him unhooking her bra in the back. He looked down at her, gently slipping the straps off her shoulders with both hands, exhaling slowly. Slipping one arm around her waist, he pulled her to him, kissing her deeply as his fingertips traced up the side of her body and began to circle her breast and nipple. It made her tremble with anticipation. His hands were large and warm and she wanted them on her everywhere.

 

When Quinn finally cupped her breast and began to knead and play with her, she felt her legs weaken. He slowly pushed her down onto the bed while they kissed and she felt his erection, massive and hard, against her hip. She yearned to feel him inside her already.

 

His lips traveled down her neck as he continued caressing her. Then he was pinning her arms down and taking her breasts into his mouth, bringing her to new heights of arousal. He murmured sounds of appreciation as he kissed and sucked on them vigorously. His tongue swirled around her nipple and she decided that Quinn’s mouth on her was one of the sweetest, most erotic sensations she had ever known.

 

Fire was igniting her body. She had never felt such deep, intense desire for a man. Wetness pooled between her legs. She couldn’t remember at the moment why she had been so afraid to let him in, to give in to this overwhelming attraction between them. Right now, he was the only thing that made sense to her.

 

She reached down to unbuckle his jeans as he was unbuttoning hers. They quickly pushed off their remaining clothing and then they were naked in each other’s arms. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his hands roaming everywhere.

 

Carrie revelled in the feeling of his warm body pressed against hers, his cock twitching against her thigh, his muscular chest and strong arms enveloping her. He moved a hand between her legs and she kissed him frantically, urging him on.

 

The moment when he slipped a finger inside her and began to explore, she thought she might scream. He gently moved it in and out of her, murmuring how much he wanted to make her come. He slid in another, and began working her deeper, adding his thumb to massage over her clit. He was so fucking good at this, of course he was. But it was how much he wanted her, and she him, that intensified everything. She began to respond loudly as she felt herself getting closer, her body tensing and pushing against his hand.

 

Quinn was focused on her, his eyes drinking in her expression as she came for him, her orgasm crushing her like a wave. He said something she couldn't hear, his fingers still working gently inside her, wringing out every last pleasurable contraction as he kissed her face tenderly. She went limp in his arms as the intensity dissipated.

 

Carrie sighed as she felt him spreading her legs apart. His lips found hers and his kiss became more demanding, more deep and primal as he pressed himself against her entrance.

 

He broke away and looked into her eyes, brushing strands of hair back from her face.

 

“I’ve never stopped wanting you,“ he whispered to her. “All these years, it’s only been you, Carrie.”

 

She felt tears forming in her eyes and didn’t trust herself to speak, she was so overwhelmed with emotion and desire. Sex had never really been like this for her, such an intense connection. For one crazy second, she felt like a fucking virgin.

 

Then he was brushing his lips back and forth lightly over hers, looking directly into her eyes and almost holding his breath as he slowly, slowly entered her. She moved her hands down over the sweet curve of his back, feeling his muscles working as he pushed in deeper, stretching her.

 

“Christ Carrie, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, burying his head in her neck, stopping to steady himself.

 

He continued, kissing her both gratefully and possessively as he filled her. Carrie pulled her knees up, wanting all of him inside her. At that, he seemed to lose the last of his restraint. Reaching down and slipping a hand under one thigh, he began to fuck her with abandon.

 

The feel of him was overwhelming. She could feel every inch of him driving into her, taking her determinedly and purposefully.

 

God, she had thought about this for so long, wondered what he’d be like. He felt better than anything she could have imagined, so sweet and satisfying. She moaned against his mouth, moving her hips to meet his thrusts. His hand wound through her hair, pulling her head to the side as he kissed and sucked on her neck hungrily. Grunting at times, he pushed into her so hard that it was only that hand that kept her from smacking into the headboard.

 

Between the two of them, they were making enough noise to bring the house down. They were breathing heavily, murmuring things to each other that should have been said a long time ago. It went on for awhile. Carrie lost any sense of time, she was so wonderfully caught up in him. Quinn hooked his arm under her knee and pushed it back. He groaned at the feel of more access to her and increased his pace. 

 

He was going so deep, and it was undoing her. She whimpered his name, told him how good he felt, told him she was going to come again.

 

She felt herself coming apart with an intensity she was almost afraid of. She gasped and dug her fingernails into his shoulder and cried out for him. She could hear Quinn pounding his hand against the headboard, unraveling, swearing and moaning her name, his face buried in her neck. The bed was shaking above her. She had never had a man take her so completely, never heard anything more erotic than the sounds he made when he came inside her.

 

Quinn collapsed on top of her, both of them unable to move for a long moment. Then he gently rolled off to lie sprawled on his back, chest heaving. Both of them were completely wrecked, trying to catch their breath.

 

He was the first to speak.

 

“Carrie?” he panted, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Hmm?” was all she could manage, blissfully.

 

“You were totally worth the wait.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs inspiring this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Gorecki by Lamb  
> https://youtu.be/tSRYvYN1ayw


	7. Chapter 7

When Quinn woke up a few hours later, it was dark out and Carrie was still asleep in his arms. His first thought was how badly he had fucked up, and had continued to fuck up, since that last phone call between them before he left for Syria. She was right, he had been a fucking coward and done what he did best: run. He wasn’t sure he could forgive himself for how badly he’d hurt her.

 

And then, over the past few days, he'd done nothing but push her away. He had been such a complete dick to her after she woke up in the garage. She had told him, right there in the storage facility as they packed up her things, that she hadn’t stopped thinking about him or looking for him. She had attempted to connect with him and he had lied to her face, telling her it no longer mattered, that basically she no longer mattered to him.

 

He had tried to make up for that, to let her know how much she meant to him as he made love to her. He wasn’t sure he’d succeeded, but the act itself had left him shaken, physically and emotionally. He’d never felt so overwhelmed by emotion during sex before, it was usually more perfunctory for him. But the feelings he had for her, the amount of love, protectiveness and also possessiveness that he experienced, threatened to undo him.

 

Physically, he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her. It was all he could do not to come on himself when he finally had her naked in his arms and felt her wetness, her excitement for _him_. There were no words for how good it had felt to be inside her. He had come so hard he thought he might punch a hole in the headboard.

 

He was so aroused just from the memory of what they’d done a few hours ago that he gently moved Carrie on her back and began to place soft kisses on her neck and shoulders, his hands wandering over her body. She stirred, murmuring his name and running her hands through his hair as he kissed the hollow under her throat.

 

“What time is it?” she asked him, slowly waking and responding to his touch.

 

“It’s midnight,” he said, caressing her nipple with his thumb and coming up to kiss her, his erection pressing firmly against her side.

 

“And you’re wide awake, I see”, she smiled against his mouth.

 

“Mmm hmm,” he smiled back.

 

He lowered his hand between her legs, running his fingertips lightly over her entrance. She inhaled sharply

 

“I want you again,” he whispered simply in her ear.

 

She continued to stroke his hair as he began trailing open-mouthed kisses down her body. He loved the soft roundness of her breasts, the feel of them in his hand as he caressed and sucked them. Continuing down, he kissed her belly button, her hip bone, and slid his tongue across the flat of her abdomen. He heard her breath coming faster as he placed one arm across her hips and used his fingers to spread her gently. She was so wet and he longed to feel himself surrounded by that wetness, but right now what he wanted more than anything was to taste her.

 

Quinn dipped his tongue inside her and she half-sobbed, half-moaned with pleasure. He began exploring her with his mouth, adding fingers as she writhed under the arm that was holding her firmly in place. She tasted sweet and he sucked on her gently. He brought his tongue out and used it to play with her clit, still moving his fingers inside her. She was whimpering and her hands tangled in his hair.

 

Being able to suck and lick her, to fuck her with his fingers, was almost more than his mind could handle. It was insanely arousing listening to her succumb to him, hearing her say his name, knowing he was the source of her pleasure. Wild thoughts ran through his head of all the things he wanted to do to her, how many ways he could please her and make her come. He wanted to touch and explore every inch of her body. He wanted to make her his.

 

Quinn withdrew his fingers and pushed his tongue deep inside her again. He took one finger, dripping with her wetness, and slowly slid it against her back entrance. He pressed lightly in a circular motion, listening for her reaction. She responded enthusiastically by clutching the sheets, her breath coming faster. Being careful not to go too deep, he slipped his finger inside and stimulated her gently in the back while continuing to work her in front with his tongue. She reached down to press her hands against his head. The sounds coming from her now were erotic as hell. He almost came.  

 

Fighting to calm himself, he continued on until he knew Carrie was there. He held her with his arm as she screamed and bucked against him. When her breathing slowed, he eased his finger and tongue out of her, but continued to kiss her softly between her legs until she was gently tugging at him, asking him to come up to her which he eagerly did.

 

He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly at first, his kiss growing stronger when he felt her stroking him, guiding him to her entrance. He ducked his face into her neck and they both groaned as he pushed into her for the second time that night and began to move.

 

Sliding his hands underneath her, he cupped her ass and lifted it up, pressing her against him as he fucked her slow and deep. She was so sweet and warm and tight, he just wanted to bury himself in her.

 

“Quinn, oh god, that feels so good,” Carrie breathed as she wrapped her legs around him.

 

Quinn continued to lift her against him as he thrust into her. She felt incredible and he couldn’t go deep enough. Her lips found his and he kissed her back passionately, breathing and moaning loudly into her mouth as he felt his orgasm building. It tore through him violently. His mind shattered and everything went grey as he pumped uncontrollably into her.

 

“Oh fuck, jesus christ, Carrie...Carrie…”

 

He felt her tightening around him and calling his name, knew she was coming with him. He didn't think he'd ever felt so much pleasure. Afterwards, feeling completely spent and blissful, he moved onto his side while keeping her pressed against him, wanting to stay inside her as long as possible. When he finally shifted out of her, they lay there staring at each other, face to face. She had a faint glow of perspiration on her skin and her lips were pink and slightly puffy. She was smiling at him with one hand under her head, the other tracing invisible lines up and down his arm. He thought she had never looked more beautiful.

 

“That was, I don’t even know...just…” she searched for the words.

 

“Yeah. For me, too,” he told her, kissing her shoulder.

 

He tried to apologize, although it felt massively inadequate.

 

“I shouldn’t have left, Carrie. I was such a jackass.”

 

“True, you were. But I fucked up, too, Quinn. Neither one of us is good at this,” she admitted.

 

Then, with a wry smile, “Thank god someone sent you to kill me, otherwise this might have turned out badly.”

 

Quinn laughed harder than he had in a long time. “Yeah, so far things are going swell”.

 

“Admit it,” she teased, rolling on top of him “you thought about actually killing me just a tiny bit, didn’t you?” She brought her thumb and forefinger almost together, showing him a speck of space.

 

He took her fingers and moved them about an inch further apart, stared at her with a straight face as her jaw dropped.

 

She smacked him on the shoulder and he flipped her over, smiling and biting her playfully on the neck.

 

A little while later, as they were falling asleep again, Quinn wrapped his arms around her from behind and whispered in her ear, “We’ll figure this out, Carrie.”

 

“And if we don’t?” she said quietly. “What if I have to keep running?”

 

He hesitated, only because he knew now that he couldn’t let that happen.

 

“You won’t. Try to sleep now.”

 

He waited until he heard the rhythm of her breathing change, letting him know she was asleep. Then he stayed awake awhile longer, holding her protectively.

 

“If you run, I run,” he murmured into her hair, just before he drifted off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs inspiring this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Breathe You In My Dreams by Trixie Whitley  
> https://youtu.be/1nEnenji0PI


	8. Chapter 8

 

The sound of a truck unloading a delivery in the street below woke her up. She had a confused moment before remembering where she was, and then a flood of memories from the previous night overtook her. Breathless kisses, hands and mouths exploring each other everywhere, their eventual unraveling as intense gratification and pleasure consumed them both. Carrie actually felt herself blushing. 

 

But when she looked over, his side of the bed was empty. It would be just like her to hallucinate that shit, she thought briefly. But she knew it was real. Even she couldn’t hallucinate sex that mind-blowing. Sitting up, she pulled the sheets around her and brought her knees up to her chest. Some of her usual doubts and fears started creeping in as she wondered why he left. Worst of all was that familiar feeling of having been left by him before.

 

Then she saw the note on the nightstand.

 

_Went to get breakfast._

_Was afraid if I woke you up we’d start kissing and then I’d never get out the door…_

_Back soon._

_Q_

 

She looked at it for awhile, rubbing the paper between her fingers and smiling, then reached down to tuck it into the back pocket of her jeans. They had landed on the floor at some point, along with the rest of her clothes. She was contemplating a shower when the door opened and Quinn was back, carrying two cups of coffee and a bag that smelled like pastries. He came over and sat down next to her on the bed, smiling. Her heart melted. It had been so long since she had seen him smile like that.

 

“Good Morning,” he said, handing her a cup.

 

“Good Morning yourself,” she smiled back at him, taking a sip. “Did you get any sleep?” 

 

“Some. Enough.”

 

They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them regretting the missed sleep.

 

“So, your note mentioned something about kissing and not getting out doors. I’m not sure I know what you were alluding to,” she said coyly, tilting her head to the side.

 

“Then I'll have to show you," he replied, his voice husky. He took their coffee and put it on the bedside table. She felt her pulse quicken.

 

He leaned over and kissed her softly at first, one hand cupping her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. She shifted and wound her arms around his neck as his tongue traced the inside of her mouth. He pulled her against him. The sheet started to slip...

 

The computer pinged loudly, indicating a connection.

 

“Numan...,” Carrie broke away, looking towards the desk.

 

“Fuck Numan,” Quinn murmured, kissing her neck and tugging at the sheet.

 

“I think he got in.” She managed to extricate herself from him and got up.

 

He groaned and fell back on the bed for a minute, defeated. Then he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at her, his eyebrow raised.

 

“You, uh, planning to call this guy on FaceTime wearing that?” He gestured toward the sheet wrapped around her as she sat at the desk.

 

“Why? You think it might distract him?" she teased, skimming through the morning news on the computer.

 

He got up and came over to her, rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. She tilted her head back to look up at him. He bent down and kissed her, saying against her mouth "It would definitely distract me." He kissed her one more time and then patted her arm, indicating for her to get up so he could sit there.

 

"Go take a quick shower if you want. I'll call him."

 

Carrie headed into the bathroom, grabbing some clothes from her bag. The heat in the shower was relaxing. She indulged in a few extra minutes under the water, thinking about last night and how good it had felt to finally be with him. Now more than ever she was determined to get back to her life, not just for Franny, but for Quinn, too. She had no idea what to expect as far as their future, but she knew she wanted one. It had bothered her a little when she asked him what would happen if she had to keep running. He had hedged, tried to reassure her. She had hoped he would say he’d come with her, but was it really fair to expect him to do that? Maybe he thought he’d be in a better position to help her if he stayed behind. The thought that she might have to leave them both was unbearable, and she put it out of her head.

 

After dressing quickly in jeans and a fresh t-shirt, she padded out in her bare feet, grabbing her coffee and a danish before sitting down next to Quinn. He was already talking to Numan and they had just started opening files on Ahmed's computer. There were a lot of banking statements and emails to go through.

 

“Can you trace any of the financial transactions back to Baghdad?” Carrie asked, hoping to find some sort of money source.

 

“I can look for the the amounts used to open the original accounts. When did you say the bombing happened?” Numan was typing on his end.

 

After combing through files for about two hours, Carrie was getting frustrated. Ahmed’s wife had opened her account with a fairly large some of money, but they couldn’t seem to find the source beyond some shell companies that her husband had invested in. Allison should be in town by now and they needed to get to the meeting spot. Quinn was looking through Ahmed's photos, mostly pics of his wife and her family. There was one file that he couldn't open. He told Numan to try unlocking it.

 

“It looks like a small file. Weird that he's encrypted it,” Numan commented.

 

“Can you keep trying?" Quinn asked him. "We have to go out for a little while. Text me if you find anything."

 

“Ok, I will,” he replied, signing off.

 

Quinn put on his jacket and checked his gun before putting it in his back holster. He stopped Carrie as she was heading for the door. Pushing a strand of hair out of her face, he bent down to kiss her. She kissed him back and then wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. They stood like that for a moment.

 

"We’ll find something,” he reassured her, kissing the top of her head and moving to open the door for her.

 

She wanted so much to believe that.

 

————————————————

 

Quinn had picked an outdoor cafe in an open plaza at the center of town for the meet with Allison. She didn’t know him, so he could sit a few tables away and keep eyes on them. She might have brought other agents with her even though she’d promised that she would come alone — better that he stay out of sight so that he could warn Carrie if something didn’t look right. He would be able to see someone coming from any direction, and there were multiple exit points if they needed to leave quickly. Grabbing a paper, he positioned himself diagonally from their table so that Allison’s back would be to him.

 

Carrie sat down and ordered some tea. A few minutes before their scheduled meeting time, Allison walked in from the west entrance to the square, just as the note left in the church had instructed her to do. Carrie got up to hug her. The two women started talking and he glanced around the area. No one seemed to be with her. Carrie was looking disappointed. It didn’t seem as if Allison had anything useful to offer about Ahmed. She kept shaking her head.

 

His phone buzzed and he saw that Numan was calling him. He picked up.

 

“You find something?”

 

Numan sounded unnerved. “Yeah, I got into that file. There’s a photo of a woman sleeping in bed next to Ahmed. I think he took the picture without her knowing.”

 

“That’s what you called to tell me? That he cheated on his wife?” Quinn was unimpressed. He kept his eyes on Carrie.

 

“It's not just that. I’ve seen her before. She’s CIA. Her photo was in the paper when the story about the leaked documents came out. The picture on Ahmed’s computer was scanned in, and there’s a date on it. November 2009. Carrie told me the bombing in Iraq was in October of that year. This woman was with him after that. She knows he’s alive.”

 

Quinn felt his heart stop. “Can you send me the picture?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll send both side by side so you can see.”

 

He waited for it to come through and then there it was, and all the fucking pieces fell into place.

 

Allison Carr, Berlin Station Chief, her newspaper photo right next to the photo of Ahmed smiling next to her in bed while she slept, dated one month after the bombing. They looked like they were in one of those goddam huts in the Caribbean. She was a fucking Russian agent, likely flipped by the SVR in Baghdad using her own asset against her. It all made sense now. They were worried that by finding out Ahmed was still alive, Carrie could blow her cover. And now Carrie was sitting right across from her with no idea she was in danger.

 

Allison was reaching for her cigarettes when Quinn got up and started to approach them, his hand moving towards his gun. He scanned the perimeter more closely. He knew she hadn’t come alone. It was then that he saw it. The open window about ten stories up in the building in front of him, and the unmistakable blackness of a sniper rifle. Carrie was looking at him, confused. She stood up just as he heard the shot and tackled her to the ground.

 

People started screaming and Quinn began pushing Carrie out from beneath him towards a low brick wall nearby. Another shot hit the table in front of Allison and Carrie grabbed her arm and pulled her down behind the wall, too.

 

 _She doesn’t know, she doesn’t understand,_ he thought desperately.

 

But he could only crawl towards her. His chest was on fire, and when he tried to speak, he started to cough up blood. Carrie was screaming at him and trying to pull him towards her. She had blood smeared on her neck and chin and he worried she was hurt. It was becoming harder to breathe.

 

He heard sirens approaching, saw Allison talking on her phone and felt white hot rage, tried to sit up and grab his gun but he could only clutch onto Carrie’s jacket. His head was in her lap and she was pressing a towel someone had given her against his chest. It was soaked with his blood already.

 

She was crying and saying something he couldn’t hear. She sounded far away.

 

Two paramedics were beside him now, putting an oxygen mask over his face. He tried to pull it off, tried to tell Carrie that the hospital was a really bad idea right now, but she grabbed his hand and held it, trying to calm him down as they loaded him on a stretcher. The last thing he saw was Allison’s face outside the ambulance, staring at him and Carrie before the doors closed.

 

 _If anything happens to her, I will kill you with my bare hands_ , he thought. Then everything went black.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs inspiring this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Tomorrow Never Comes by Dot Allison  
> (Carrie waking up in the morning.)  
> https://youtu.be/JQ2aoHnZdnU
> 
> 2\. Angel by Massive Attack  
> (Quinn and Carrie meeting Allison.)  
> https://youtu.be/hbe3CQamF8k


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

Carrie was pacing back and forth in the hallway at Landstuhl Medical Center when Saul arrived. She was so exhausted and so glad that he had come, she just started to cry when she saw him. He took her in and hugged her. He had taken her decision to leave the agency very hard, and things between them had been strained ever since she had started working for Otto. The During Foundation gave “aid and comfort” to the enemy, as he put it. She had crossed a line, disappointed him. But she needed him now and he was here.

 

“How is he doing?” he asked as they sat down in the waiting area.

 

Quinn was in surgery again and she had been waiting for an update. He had lost a lot of blood. The bullet had gone through his chest, clipping a small artery, and his lung had collapsed, but it had missed other major vessels and organs. At the hospital in Rheinsberg, they had done a quick damage control operation to stop the bleeding, put in a chest tube to re-inflate his lung, and flown him to Landstuhl for more advanced trauma care.

 

There wasn’t enough room on the helicopter for her to fly with him, so Allison had sent a team to escort her safely to the hospital. Almost immediately after she arrived, they had taken him back to the operating room for a more thorough exploration of the wound. She still had his blood on the sleeve of her jacket, as Saul gently pointed out. Did she want to go to the hotel near the hospital where they could put security outside her room? They had a detail with Allison since the SVR hit man had tried to take her out, too.

 

“I’m not leaving him.” Carrie shook her head and wiped at her tears. “He saved my life, Saul. He took a fucking bullet for me. And I never told him…,” she trailed off, shaking her head again.

 

“Doesn’t surprise me. Seems like something he would do.”

 

“Yes it does, doesn’t it? Damn fool.” Dar Adal had walked up just in time to hear the last part of their conversation. “No offense, Carrie,” he added, taking a seat and turning to Saul.

 

“Mind telling me what you were doing with my guy, Saul?”

 

“I’m sure you have an idea.”

 

“I do. And look what happened. Fucking Russians infiltrated your off-book operation. Next time, Saul, try staying in your own lane.”

 

Carrie didn’t feel like listening to them go at it, not while Quinn was lying on the operating table.

 

“Will you both please just shut the fuck up? Now that you actually believe me about the SVR, we need to figure out how Ahmed Nazari is connected to them.”

 

“And Allison couldn’t think of anything?” Dar pressed her.

 

“No. But apparently they thought she was worth taking out, too.”

 

“She’s lucky. BND has a photo of the sniper from one of the street cams. He’s good. Hardly ever fails to take out a target. They’re hunting for him now.”

 

“We need to get Ahmed’s computer from the hotel I was staying at.” Carrie ran her hands through her hair and stood up.

 

“Allison’s taken care of that,” Saul assured her. “You can go to the station and finish looking through it when you’re up to it.”

 

Dar looked pensive and was about to say something when the surgeon came out to talk to them.

 

“Hi, I’m Dr. Miller. You’re all here for Peter Quinn, I assume? May I ask who his primary spokesperson is?

 

“That would be Miss Mathison,” Dar nodded in her direction. “She’s been designated as next of kin.” He hesitated a moment but then went on as she gaped at him. “He did that. Before he left for Syria.”

 

_All these years, it’s only been you, Carrie._

 

She suddenly felt unsteady on her feet and had to sit down again. There was a lump in her throat, preventing her from speaking. Dr. Miller sat down next to her and spoke gently.

 

“We were able to repair the immediate damage from the bullet and stop the bleeding. He required several blood transfusions to stabilize him. Unfortunately, he was in shock and some of his organs are going into failure.”

 

“What...what does that mean? Will he be ok?” Carrie tried to keep her voice steady.

 

“His kidneys have been affected, which is not uncommon in these situations. We might need to put him on temporary dialysis until they recover, but his lung tissue has also become permeated with fluid, making it difficult to provide him with the oxygen his body needs. He’ll need to be kept sedated and on a ventilator until his condition improves.”

 

“But he will improve?”

 

“We’ll know more after the first 24-48 hours. Would you like to see him now?” Dr. Miller said, rising.

 

She nodded gratefully and got up to follow him to the recovery room.

 

“We’ll give you a minute,” Saul called after her.

 

He was laying in the bed, hooked up to the ventilator and what looked like a million wires and tubes. Carrie had never seen him look so vulnerable. She wished she could hold him.

 

“Quinn,” she whispered, stroking the side of his face, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Can you hear me? Please come back to me. I’m right here waiting for you.”

 

She was squeezing his hand and touching his face and she saw his eyes flutter open and closed.

 

“Quinn?”

 

He opened his eyes and looked at her, blinking. Then he started trying to sit up.

 

“Quinn, no. You were shot. You’re in the hospital, you need to lie down,” she tried to push him back, gently.

 

Alarms went off as his heart rate shot up and he started to fight against the ventilator. His eyes were wide now, fearful.

 

“Quinn, it’s ok, you’re safe, I’m safe. We’re at Landstuhl, the CIA is working with us now.”

 

He was shaking his head and gripping her wrist, hard. Dr. Miller and several nurses ran in and helped Carrie try to calm him down while they checked to make sure he hadn't dislodged any lines or tubes. Quinn was grimacing now, obviously in pain.

 

“Give him some more Fentanyl and increase his sedation,” Dr. Miller ordered, checking on the tube that was draining blood and air out of his chest.

 

Quinn shook his head frantically and held onto her wrist, but then his eyes were closing and his grip loosened until he was finally out again. Carrie felt her heart breaking as she backed away, watching the nurses moving around him. Someone offered her a chair. She kept seeing Quinn’s face as he pushed her down, shielding her from the sniper’s bullet. He had absolutely no fear when he made that decision, of that she was sure.The only fear she’d seen in his eyes as they fell to the ground, was for her. Sitting in the chair by the bed, she put her face in her hands and sobbed.

 

 

 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

Quinn was heavily sedated and stable for now, so Saul convinced her to go to the hotel and try to get some sleep. He put a team outside her door and gave her a new phone to use. Later, he called to tell her they finally had Ahmed’s computer and were going through it now.

 

“Anything interesting yet?” She was sitting cross-legged on the bed in her pajamas, absently rubbing her feet.

 

“Still trying to trace the source of the money in those bank accounts you told us about, but so far, nothing.”

 

“What about that small encrypted file Quinn had asked Numan about?”

 

“Haven’t seen any encrypted files on here.”

 

She could see him shrugging on the other end of the phone. “Really? That’s weird. Maybe he unlocked it and there was nothing there.”

 

“We’ll keep looking, Carrie. I’ll stop by the hospital in the morning and give you an update. Get some rest.”

 

She got up and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and take her meds. Then she called Otto, knowing he was probably worried.

 

“I’m glad you are safe. That man really cares for you, you know,” he told her. “He’s strong, Carrie, he’ll pull through.” She felt a little better hearing how sure he was.

 

“Oh, and Numan’s been trying to reach you. He’s worried, too, I think.”

 

“Please tell him not to worry. The CIA is helping us with Ahmed’s computer now, but I’m very grateful to him.”

 

Otto promised to relay the message and they said good night. Carrie stared at the bed a long moment before getting into it. She thought about how last night she’d been in a hotel bed, experiencing a completely different set of emotions. Now Quinn was fighting for his life in the hospital. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. She got up and found her jeans, fished the note he had left her this morning out of the back pocket. Got back in bed and stared at it tearfully.

 

She remembered holding his head in her lap as she tried to stop the bleeding, terrified he was going to die there in front of her.

 

She remembered the words that spilled out of her, finally being able to say what she should have said a long time ago.

 

“Quinn, hold on. Just hold on. I’m here. I need you, I love you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs inspiring this chapter:
> 
> 1\. I Know Places by Lykke Li  
> https://youtu.be/0DKw_xnzKok  
> (In the hospital.)
> 
> 2\. Lullaby by Lamb  
> (Carrie in her hotel room.)  
> https://youtu.be/feXmoi-HP1g


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Carrie had fallen asleep with her head on Quinn’s hospital bed when one of the nurses gently woke her up. “I’m sorry sweetie but I have to change the dressing around his chest tube,” she said, patting Carrie’s shoulder.

 

“I’m Rhonda, I’m taking care of Peter today.” She was a little older than most of the other nurses, with slightly greying hair. “You’re Carrie, right? Your name is in his chart.”

 

“Yes,” Carrie nodded. 

 

She moved her chair back and rubbed her face. Quinn hadn’t woken up since yesterday when they increased his sedation and she had spent the morning holding his hand, her eyes going back and forth between his face and the monitors. She noticed things that she hadn’t before, like that he had a cute dimple under his chin and a tiny scar, barely noticeable, above his left eyebrow. She had kissed that scar and kissed his forehead, wanted to cover his perfect face with kisses, wanted him to know she was here.

 

“So how long have you two been together? Rhonda asked her as she gathered her supplies and began to remove the old bandages from around the tube.

 

_One night?_

 

Carrie didn’t know what to say. It felt like a lot more than one night. But she could barely explain this feeling to herself, let alone a stranger. And she was so fucking tired of hiding from the truth.

 

“I don’t know how to answer that,” she said simply.

 

“But you two are together?”

 

“It’s hard to explain.”

 

Rhonda wasn’t really looking at Carrie, she was focused on her task, but nodded her head in understanding.

 

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“Yes.”  

 

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just...well....it’s very obvious,” she said sweetly, finishing up the dressing and turning to smile at Carrie. “It’s good that he has you here with him.”

 

“I never told him,” Carrie blurted out, her eyes brimming. “Not when he could really hear me.”

 

“You’re telling him now. By being here. You’ll say the words when you’re ready.” Rhonda handed her a tissue and she nodded silently. In the past, it might have unnerved her how easily this woman could read her, but right now, it felt comforting to have someone who understood the depth of her feelings.

 

When Rhonda left the room, Carrie sat for a moment looking out the window. It was a dull, grey day. She had no idea when it had started raining. She definitely needed some coffee. As she was getting up to leave, Allison knocked and poked her head around the door. She came in and gave Carrie a brief hug.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come until now. I’ve been dealing with the mess in Rheinsberg, but I wanted to stop by and see how he's doing." 

 

“They’re listing his condition as critical but stable. He's been sedated since yesterday. Any luck with the computer?”

 

“Not yet, and SVR is insisting they no nothing about Ahmed's disappearance or the shooting, of course."

 

“Of course." Carrie shook her head disgustedly. "Listen, I was just going to get some coffee down the hall. Would you mind waiting with him until I get back? I could get you some, too?" 

 

“No, Carrie, I'm fine. Of course I'll wait."

  

She was in line behind one person at the small coffee stand when her phone buzzed. She picked up the call as she was getting money out of her bag.

 

“Carrie!” It was Numan.

 

“I’ve been trying to reach you. Otto gave me this number. He told me what happened.”

 

“Yeah, I’m at the hospital now with Quinn. It’s nice of you to call, but the CIA has Ahmed’s computer now. They haven’t found anything yet-”

 

“Carrie, no! Listen to me. There’s a picture. I sent it to Quinn just before he got shot. Did you see it?”

 

“No, Allison secured his gun and his phone at the scene before they took him to the hospital. What picture?”

 

“A picture of her, Carrie! The CIA station chief! I found it in the encrypted file and I sent it to Quinn. That’s how he knew you were in danger.”

 

“Wait, Numan, I don’t understand-”

 

“It was a picture of her and Ahmed together, taken over a month after the Ministry bombing. I still have it, I’ll send it to you. But she knew, Carrie! She’s known all along. That’s what they’ve been afraid you would discover. That she’s working for them. Quinn figured it out.”

 

Carrie felt her blood run cold. Allison. Working with Russian intelligence all these years. And Quinn found out, and she saw his phone…

 

“Miss, are you going to order, miss?” said a gentleman behind her. “Hey, you dropped your bag...”

 

Carrie barely heard him as she ran down the corridor and into Quinn’s room. Allison was standing next to his IV line and Carrie saw what looked like a small syringe in her hand before she looked up and backed away from his bed.

 

“Carrie, I was just about to call his nurse, something was beeping over here...”

 

Carrie reached her in 3 seconds and grabbed her by the shoulders, throwing her down to the floor. The syringe went flying.

 

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM,” she screamed. Allison scrambled to get up but Carrie pinned her down and hit her in the face. This woman, someone she had called a friend, had nearly destroyed her entire life. 

 

“If you hurt him I’m gonna kill you, you traitorous bitch!” She was in a blind rage, continuing to throw punches until she felt someone pulling her off.

 

“Carrie, what the fuck are you doing?” It was Saul. He was dumbfounded, trying to hold her back.

 

Allison was bleeding from her lip, trying to stand up. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, Carrie, but you just made a big mistake,” she spat.

 

“Carrie, Jesus Christ, tell me what the fuck is going on?” Saul was shaking her. Doctors and nurses were hurrying into the room.

 

Quinn’s heart rate was elevated and alarms were going off, finally snapping Carrie out of her fury and shifting her focus back to him. She saw Rhonda and grabbed the syringe off the floor, showing it to her.

 

“She was injecting this into his IV, please help him.”

 

Rhonda quickly unscrewed the IV tubing from Quinn’s arm and looked at the syringe of clear liquid, frowning.

 

“It's a full syringe,” she said, holding it up to Dr. Miller. “Doesn’t look like she got to inject much. If this was meant to be some sort of lethal agent, it could be potassium."

 

“Send a stat tox screen and electrolyte panel, and do an EKG” he ordered, listening to Quinn's heart with his stethoscope. "And send that syringe to the lab to be analyzed," he added.

 

Rhonda handed it over to a military policeman who had entered the room. Saul had been staring at the syringe and then at Allison, starting to catch on. He was holding Carrie’s bag which he had seen her drop at the coffee stand. She took it from him as the MPs were ushering them out into the hallway, pulling out her phone and bringing up the picture from Numan to show him. He studied it intently.

 

“That’s Allison and Ahmed Nazari, one month after she listed him as dead at the Ministry of Justice bombing in Baghdad. The Russians used him to flip her, Saul. She’s been working for them ever since. Our friend found this photo on Ahmed’s computer and sent it to Quinn. She must have wiped it. Quinn knew. That’s why she was trying to kill him.”

 

Saul put his hand to his forehead as if trying to push away a bad dream. He turned to Allison.

 

“You don’t really believe her, Saul? That’s insane," she scoffed, arms crossed indignantly.  "He saved my life. They were trying to kill me, too remember?"

 

"Yeah, and that highly trained sniper conveniently missed you by a mile," Carrie said angrily, moving towards her again. 

 

The MPs had to keep Allison and Carrie separated while waiting for orders from Saul. He had been interrupted by the buzzing of his own phone. Looking at the text, he began to shake his head and Carrie could tell from his demeanor that there was rage bubbling under the surface. He nodded to the MPs to put Allison in handcuffs and told them to escort her back to the station.

  

“This is ridiculous, she’s crazy!” Allison yelled, glaring at Carrie.

 

“Really? Then explain to me why an SVR sniper just gave you up as part of the play to take her out?" Saul was holding up his phone, showing a text from Dar Adal who had interrogated the sniper himself on a hunch that the man never intended to kill Allison, just made it look that way when things went south. He was right. He sent Saul a text ordering that Allison be taken into custody immediately

 

Carrie took a deep breath. It was finally over.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

They were monitoring him closely and sending more tests, but his condition appeared unchanged. Dr. Miller told them that it didn't look as if anything had been injected, Carrie had gotten there in time. His heart rate had probably been elevated from hearing all the yelling in the room. When she went back inside, Rhonda was smiling at her.

 

“Hey slugger,” she chuckled. “Someone’s been looking for you.” She stepped aside and Carrie saw that Quinn’s eyes were open. He was drowsy, but he was awake.

 

"I've been weaning his sedation down. He's waking up now. We'll see how he does without it," she explained.

 

Relief and happiness flooded through Carrie as she went to him, slipping her hand into his and squeezing it. He squeezed back. She saw that he was trying to say something to her, not realizing at first that he couldn't talk on the ventilator.

 

“Quinn, it’s ok. We know about Allison. They just arrested her. I know that’s what you were trying to warn me about. We’re safe now,” she reassured him.

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, appearing relieved. Then he turned and looked at Rhonda who was putting up a new IV line.

 

“Yeah, you should have seen your girlfriend. She.kicked.her.ass!”

 

Quinn’s eyebrows shot up and he looked back at Carrie.

 

“Rhonda!” she protested.

 

“What? The man slept through two women fighting right next to his bed! Any red-blooded male would wanna hear THAT story.”

 

Quinn was nodding his head up and down, vigorously agreeing with her.

 

“Later. You need to rest,” she admonished, smiling.

 

He rolled his eyes and turned back to Rhonda.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you all about it,” she winked at him.

 

His eyes crinkled up as he tried to smile at her.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Still drowsy from pain medication, he dozed on and off for the rest of the day as Carrie sat with him. She knew he must be feeling pretty lousy because he allowed her to fuss over him a little bit, putting balm on his lips and giving him swabs dipped in ice water to wet his mouth, only rolling his eyes to the ceiling and shaking his head when she tried to fix his hair with her fingers.

 

“Ok, fine, I won’t mess with the hair,” she teased him.

 

When they were alone, he reached up to touch her cheek as she rested her elbows on the side of his bed. He made a motion with his other hand, like he was using a pen.

 

Rhonda had shown her the small whiteboard and marker on his bedside table that was for patients to write with. She handed it to him. He wrote slowly, his hand shaking slightly. He finished and showed it to her.

 

_**Worst feeling ever** _

 

Carrie looked at him, stricken, rubbing his shoulder. “Yeah, I can imagine it’s painful. You have a cracked rib, plus the chest tube…”

 

Quinn shook his head, frustrated, and wrote something else.

 

_**Not that. Thought I might lose you** _

 

Carrie teared up and nodded. “I think I can relate to that feeling,” she half-laughed. “You didn’t lose me, but you nearly got yourself killed, instead.”

 

_**Would do it again.** _

 

She didn’t have any words at that moment. Her lip quivered and she felt a tear slide down her face. He reached up and brushed it away.

 

Later, when he fell asleep again, she slipped out to call her sister, now that it finally felt safe enough to do so.

 

Maggie was relieved to hear that the “situation” had been resolved. Carrie gave her the sanitized version of events, explaining that she needed to stay in Germany until Quinn was released from the hospital. To her credit, Maggie didn’t press her for details about their relationship, but Carrie had a feeling her sister knew something had changed. She had always been perceptive. They made arrangements to FaceTime later on in the day so that Carrie could speak to Franny before she went to bed. She flashed back to the garage and making the goodbye video, shuddering at how close she’d come to having to leave her daughter, possibly forever. She was looking forward to spending time with her when they got back.

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

Carrie spent another night at the hotel, not ready to deal with Jonas and the fallout of their break-up. She needed to make arrangements to start shipping her and Franny’s things back home, having already given Otto her formal resignation. He was sorry that they were parting ways professionally, but understood that she needed to go home. They promised to keep in touch. Otto had given her her first private sector job and had been invaluable in helping her and Quinn through the past week. She would always be grateful.

 

When she eventually went back to Jonas’ apartment, the two realized there was little left to say. He wished her well, but he was simply not interested in a life in which her CIA background and her inability to detach from it could constantly put his family in danger. She considered trying to defend her actions again, but remembered that she was tired of denying things she knew to be true. Like the fact that she was considering going back to the CIA. Also, the fact that she loved another man. She spared Jonas these last details however, and in the end, it was as good a parting as she could have hoped for. He was kind enough to help her start packing up her things and even offered to get them shipped to the US for her.

 

Carrie gathered up fresh clothes and packed a small bag to take back to the hotel. Jonas offered to let her stay with him until she left, but the hotel was closer to the hospital, and she felt awkward staying at his place after everything that had happened. After spending the early morning at the apartment, she was headed back to the hotel to drop off her bag before going to see Quinn when she got a text from Saul. He offered to take her to lunch and then to the hospital afterwards. Slightly wary, she agreed, told him to pick her up outside the hotel in thirty minutes.

 

It was a mild day out, warm enough that she only needed a light sweater over her t-shirt. Saul usually had a driver and an Agency car, but when he picked her up, he was alone.

 

“I hope you don’t mind, but it’s such a nice day I thought we could eat at the outdoor cafe near the park,’’ he offered.

 

“Sure, I know it. Jonas and I went there once. Plenty of open space, away from the crowds. Good place when you don’t want to be overheard, or followed,” she added, casting him a sidelong glance.

 

“All true,” he admitted.

 

Saul chose a table off by itself under some trees. The place wasn’t very crowded at this time of day. Saul polished off his sandwich while Carrie nibbled half-heartedly at a plate of bread and cheese with fruit, and then they were left eyeing each other over their cups of coffee. Saul, never one to beat around the bush, came out with it.

 

“I need you back Carrie. It’s time,” he started.

 

She had seen this coming, hell, she had been thinking about it herself, but she needed to be sure that it felt right -- whatever he offered her.

 

“I’ve spoken with the Director. He’s prepared to give you full autonomy, Carrie. Design your own missions, pick your own team.”

 

“I don’t know Saul, things are different now. I have Franny, and I have…” She didn’t finish the sentence, not quite ready to discuss her relationship with Quinn with him. She wasn’t even sure exactly what that would look like once they were back in the US. “I need to go home for awhile. I’m done with drone wars and ISIS cells that grow tenfold everytime we eliminate one. I need something with an endgame.”

  

“That’s what I’m offering you, Carrie. There’s a new threat taking priority. We would be based out of Langley, working on a joint mission with the FBI. Small group of our most trustworthy people. I don’t have to tell you how catastrophic it would be if word got out about the breach. We need to contain it, and I’ve convinced the Director that we might be able to flip this to our advantage. At least, that’s how he’ll sell it up the chain.”

 

Carrie felt the familiar pull, the call of duty to protect the country from all enemies, foreign and domestic. She had never truly been able to let that go. Being an intelligence officer was who she was. She had just gotten lost for awhile. It was Quinn who had brought her back, grounded her.

 

“You know I can’t give you all the details yet, but I can tell you that the Russian threat goes much deeper than we thought. It’s infected our government to some of the highest levels. I’m talking about a resurgence in old-school asset recruitment, cyberwarfare, and the global acquisition of wealth and influence using American bankers and political consultants as cut-outs. It’s a more insidious and pervasive threat than even ISIS right now.”

 

“Jesus Saul, it sounds like the cold war all over again,” she said.

 

“This is no cold war, Carrie. The Russians are active, and we’ve been sleeping on the threat for too long. I need core people I can trust. Some of the work will be clandestine even within the Agency. For instance, you don’t come back publicly for awhile. I need you to be seen as a civilian, mixing with the consultant crowd in DC. There are some very significant targets we’ve already identified. So you’ll have some time in the beginning, to spend with Frannie and your sister and Jonas.”

 

“Jonas and I broke up. He won’t be in my life back in the states,” Carrie corrected him.

 

“Well, that makes things easier then. Say yes, Carrie.”

 

“You’re serious? My own team?” she eyed him skeptically.

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

Carrie was ready to go back, she’d felt it for awhile, but there was only one way she could do it.

 

“I have one condition, Saul.”

 

“Name it.”

 

“You said I get to pick my team, and that we need our core most trustworthy people. That’s Quinn. He gets the same offer, and the chance to leave Dar Adal’s group, or I won’t do it.”

 

“Christ Carrie, you know I only have so much influence on Dar. He’s actually gonna have some of the group involved at times, when we need to follow assets overseas. And I hate to say it, but are you sure Quinn will be up for-”

 

“He’ll be fine!” she snapped at him. “He’ll get through this. Maybe he’ll even turn it down, who knows, but he gets the offer. Or I’m staying out, Saul.”

 

She got up to throw her coffee cup and the remainder of her lunch in the trash. Saul sighed as he stood up. The sigh of a man knowing he had no choice but to give in. He followed her back to the car.

 

Once they got in, he turned to her in earnest. “I’ll do what I can, talk to Dar. But I can’t make Quinn take the job, you understand?”

 

“Yes,” Carrie replied. She felt like she was starting to see a way forward, for herself, and hopefully, for Quinn.

 

Saul dropped her off at the hospital entrance, asking her to keep him updated on Quinn. Carrie walked inside, wondering if she was really about to do this. Join an inter-agency mission to take down the Russians. She wondered what Quinn was going to think about it. Unfortunately, it would be several more weeks before she got the chance to ask him.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

 

She was still distracted by her talk with Saul, mulling things over. It took her a minute when she entered Quinn’s room to comprehend that he wasn’t there. Panicking, she went to look for a nurse and was relieved to see Rhonda coming down the hall. But the relief faded. Carrie knew bad news on someone’s face when she saw it.

 

“Where is he? What happened?” she asked, trying to stay calm.

 

“He’s in CT scan right now, he’ll be back soon,” Rhonda told her. “He developed a fever last night and we sent some blood cultures. This morning, his blood pressure dropped significantly and we had to put him on some continuous IV drip medication to maintain it. He’s also requiring more support from the ventilator so we had to sedate him again.”

 

“But why? I...I don’t...understand, he was fine yesterday,” Carrie managed to stammer out.

 

“Most likely he’s developed an infection. The doctors believe he may be septic, so they’ve started him on antibiotics and sent him to CT to rule out any other complications. Do you want to sit down in the room and wait?” Rhonda asked her, placing a hand on her back.

 

She was so warm and motherly that Carrie had the urge to bury her face on her shoulder and burst into tears right there, but instead, she asked Rhonda for directions to the hospital chapel.

 

There was a mother and daughter sitting quietly at the front when Carrie took a seat in one of the rows of pews. There was a beautiful stained glass mural at the front and she stared at it for a long time.

 

She thought back to when she had first met Quinn and what a cocky bastard he had been. He challenged her from the start. Something she initially thought she hated, but eventually realized was what she depended on him for. To keep her honest with herself. And he was the one person that really saw her, saw past her illness and her insecurities. She had run from it, scared to let him see how it affected her. She had never experienced such blatant, genuine acceptance before and it took her a long time to trust it. Not that he had made it particularly easy for her. He had his own demons to deal with, and vulnerability was just as difficult for him.

 

She refused to believe that they had finally come together only to be torn apart again. This time, she wasn't going anywhere.

 

 _And I'll be damned if I'll let you go anywhere either, Quinn_ she thought, and bowed her head to say a prayer.

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always wanted Carrie to kick more ass on the show, ever since she got thrown around like a rag doll in the mill by Abu Nazir. I was worried people would have trouble picturing it, though. I wrote that part a while ago, and now, after S72, I am no longer worried.
> 
> This ends Part I of the fic. Part II is basically all non-canon, which I find incredibly challenging to write and admire everyone on here who has done it so well.
> 
> And no, he's not gonna die. Definite eventual happy ending :)
> 
>  
> 
> Song inspiring this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Storm by Snow Patrol  
> https://youtu.be/nnEyGS3Hf9A


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

 

 

  

He’d ended up spending a total of 22 days in the hospital so far. According to Carrie, after initially waking up, he had developed an infection and become septic. He spent another week and a half on the ventilator, fading in and out of consciousness. He didn’t remember much of that part. He knew she’d been with him, though. 

He remembered her touch, her voice. There were other voices, but it was hers that he listened for, yearned for. He held onto it in his mind like a lifeline.

 

The last few days had been spent trying to regain his strength and mobility. He still had some fluid around one of his lungs which made it hard to breathe sometimes, and the pain in his chest was significant. After taking out his chest tube, they’d had to replace it with a smaller one to drain the persistent effusion. Yesterday, they had finally removed it, but getting out of bed and walking still left him slightly short of breath. He hated to feel weak, especially in front of Carrie. Still, he let her help him the first time he walked up and down the hospital corridor, leaning on the railing as she pushed his IV pole.

 

Quinn felt guilty that she was staying with him when he knew she needed to go home to Franny. He had tried to talk her into leaving once but she’d been adamant, had almost gotten angry, saying she was skyping with Franny every day and that it wouldn’t be much longer until they could leave together. It was as if she was afraid he might not come home if she left him, which was ridiculous.

 

Although, they hadn’t really talked about what would happen when they got back to Virginia. He knew Carrie and Franny would be staying at Maggie’s for the time being. The thought of renting another apartment like the one he’d had before Syria depressed him, but she needed to spend time with her family, and he would have to stay somewhere. He would try to find a nice place, someplace Carrie would want to spend time with him. A place she would also be comfortable bringing Franny. He wasn’t sure how often she would want to see him, and to be honest, a part of him still worried that she might change her mind. She’d needed him here in Germany — her life had literally depended on them working together. Once they got home and were no longer forced to spend every day together, other things would probably take priority in her life. He didn’t expect to be at the top of her list, but where exactly would he be?

 

He tried to mention this casually to his favorite nurse one morning as she was helping him get out of bed and into the chair. He’d finally started physical therapy and was determined to stay out of the damn bed as much as possible, but the shortness of breath and pain were worse in the morning and he couldn’t quite do it alone yet. Knowing that Carrie liked her and chatted with her a lot, he thought maybe she might know what Carrie was thinking.

 

Rhonda looked at him like he had two heads. “Are you asking me if your girlfriend wants to date you when you get home?”

 

“I don’t know. Forget it,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

 

Rhonda cocked her head to the side. “Have you thought about, oh I don’t know, talking to her?”

 

“We’ve never been very good at that. You saw what happened earlier this week.” He looked at her sheepishly.

 

“Well maybe don’t bring up her ex-boyfriend this time,” Rhonda deadpanned.

 

“Yeah, that was bad.”

 

“Believe me, I remember.”

 

She was referring to the fight he’d had with Carrie when she’d first told him about coming back to the CIA. His immediate, knee-jerk reaction had been to assume it meant that she wasn’t serious about a relationship with him, that he’d just caught her in a vulnerable moment that night. She was gonna go off to god-knows-where and focus on some new mission while he continued to do the same fucking thing. And what? He’d visit her from time to time? Maybe that was enough for her; it wasn’t for him. All of the medication he’d been on had blurred some of his memories from their night together. He couldn’t remember exactly what they had said to each other. Maybe she didn’t want a serious relationship right away. He didn’t even know if she was still talking to Jonas or not. Now that all the craziness had subsided, maybe she realized that she still had feelings for the guy. So when she’d told him she wanted to go back, the first thing out of his mouth had been,

 

“So you came to this decision while I was out of it, huh? Did you start fucking Jonas again, too?”

 

It didn’t help that he had been slightly high on pain medication and hadn’t been getting any decent sleep. He liked to think he wouldn’t have said it if he hadn’t been in a damn hospital bed, feeling miserable and completely useless.

 

Carrie had sucked in her breath like he’d punched her in the stomach.

 

“Quinn, how could you say that after-”

 

“After what, Carrie? After you got caught up in the heat of the moment? That’s what you want to say, isn’t it?” He’d started to cough then, hard, which just made him angrier.

 

She had made a move to help him sit up but he’d waved her off. It was then that she fled the room with tears in her eyes, passing Rhonda in the doorway. Rhonda came over to turn up the oxygen that he still had to wear in his nose and adjusted the bed so he could sit up more. Then she folded her arms and stood there looking at him like a reproachful teacher staring down at the class troublemaker.

 

“Did she leave?” he asked flatly.

 

“Is that what you want?”

 

“She’s going to leave sooner or later,” he replied.

 

“So you’re not taking the job, then?” Rhonda asked him.

 

“Carrie’s the one with the job offer, not me.”

 

“You obviously didn’t let her finish. You BOTH have a job offer. She told me she’d been offered something, but she wouldn’t agree to it unless they gave you the same deal. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that you would both be able to go home and stay there. That seemed important to her.”

 

Of course he’d screwed up again. Of course he had. “Fuck me,” he said, running a hand down his face.

 

“Yeah, I heard that ex-boyfriend comment from the hallway. I’d say you’re gonna need about two dozen roses, some chocolate, maybe one of those silly little stuffed bears from the gift shop…”

 

“Ok, ok, I get the point. I know. Could you hand me my phone, please?”

 

She handed it to him and he hesitated, his finger hovering over the screen.

 

“I…...AM…...SORRY,” Rhonda drawled, prompting him.

 

He gave her a look but she stared back, undaunted.

 

“Don’t you have nurse stuff to do?” he asked her, exasperated. He needed to fix this, fast.

 

“Is he being an ass to you now, too?” They both looked over at Carrie who had quietly returned to the room and was standing in the doorway.

 

“Not at all. He was just asking me how to spell Mea Culpa,” Rhonda quipped, throwing Quinn a meaningful glance and patting Carrie on the shoulder as she left them alone.

  
They stared at each other from across the room, Carrie with her arms crossed, looking at him warily. Her eyes were red -- she’d definitely been crying. He knew it had taken a lot for her to come back. He felt like shit.

 

“Carrie,” he started, “I’m sorry--I didn’t mean it. It’s just, I thought…” He stopped. He hated how far away she was from him. “Can you come over here? Please?”

 

She walked over to the bed and he reached for her hand and pulled her to sit down next to him. He gently brushed pushed her hair back over her ear, tried to get her to look at him but she was avoiding his eyes. He had wanted her to yell at him, hit him...anything. He sure as fuck deserved it. Instead, she just looked sad.

 

“I get why you would think that, Quinn. I do. That’s who I’ve always been.”

 

“No, don’t do that,” he said forcefully, shaking his head. “That was me. That was not you.”

 

“But it’s the truth, Quinn. The thing is, I don’t want to be that person anymore. Yes, I want to go back to the Agency, but it can’t be like before. It can’t be the only thing I have in my life. Other things are important to me now. Franny, managing my illness, and...you. You’re important to me. I want something better for both us. I don’t want to do this without you,” she said, finally looking up at him.

 

“Then you won’t have to,” he’d assured her.

 

That had basically been the end of the discussion. He knew he’d take the job even before she finished telling him the details. He doubted Dar Adal was really going to let him go that easily, but for the time being, it sounded like everybody was on board for this. They were all itching for some payback against the Russians. And she was right. This was a chance for him to make a change, too. To serve his country in a way that made sense to him again. And most importantly, to have a shot at a more normal life, a life with her.

 

Thinking about it this morning, Quinn knew he’d been lucky that she hadn’t just left the hospital and not come back that day. He figured he had a thin margin for fucking up again and he was being careful. Two years ago, he’d called her in Missouri and pressured her to move faster than she was ready for. He didn’t want to make that same mistake again.

 

He was trying to explain this to Rhonda but she cut him off. “Listen, from what I understand, you two have been ‘screwing it up’ from the moment you met. And yet, here you are together.” She made a sweeping gesture at the room. “That probably means something.”

 

Then she leaned over and whispered to him, “I mean, she told me about the time you accidentally shot her while you were working together. If your relationship survived that, I’m sure it can withstand an awkward conversation or two about the future.”

 

Quinn had to bite his tongue hard. He knew Carrie couldn’t discuss the details of what had gone down during the Javadi operation, but the fact that Rhonda thought he had shot her by _accident_ was a blow to his pride. He clenched his jaw and actually had to rub his hand over his mouth to keep from correcting her.

 

“That was more complicated than it sounds,” he offered defensively.

 

“Great, then having a conversation about your relationship status should be a piece of cake,” Rhonda said over her shoulder as she left the room.

 

Carrie showed up a few minutes later, bringing coffee and a copy of The Washington Post that he’d asked her to get for him. She tossed the paper on the bed and handed him the coffee which he grudgingly accepted.

 

“Look at you, out of bed already!” she said, smiling at him as she began to take off her jacket. He glared at her, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Wow, what’s that look for?” she asked bemusedly. Apparently, she knew the difference between him truly being angry with her, and when she had just done something that annoyed the shit out of him.

 

“I _accidentally_ shot you? Really, Carrie? That’s what you told her?”

 

“Oh, that. Shit. She wasn’t supposed to say anything. I told her it was a very sensitive subject for you,” she said, laughing.

 

“Why were you even talking about it at all?”

 

“I don’t know, I was just talking about you one day and she happened to notice my scar. She guessed it was from a gunshot and joked that you must not have been around to save me that day, and I said, ‘well, actually…’ ” She started laughing again. “C’mon Quinn, you have to admit that’s funny.”

 

“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Shot you by accident. As if that would ever happen.”

 

“I could go tell her you did it on purpose, but I don’t think that would make you look better in this scenario,” she teased as she bent down to kiss him lightly on the lips. Immediately, his annoyance began to wane. “Forgive me now?” she whispered, kissing him again, this time a little bit longer and a little less chaste. Quinn kissed her back, wishing he could just pull her onto his lap and have her make it up to him like this all morning, but there were nurses and doctors coming in and out of his room constantly. He sighed when he felt her reluctantly pull away to go sit down.

 

“So, what else did you two discuss, besides the fact that I’m a lousy shot?” He eyed her pointedly over his coffee cup.

 

“Well, I told her that we’d met back in D.C. She’s from Maryland. We talked a lot about home, actually. She’s appalled by the fact that I grew up just outside the beltway and have never been to the Cherry Blossom festival.”

 

“You’ve really never gone?” he asked her.

 

“You _have_?!”

 

“Sure. I like trees.”

 

She looked at him curiously. He could tell she was trying to figure out if he was just fucking with her. (He was).

 

“Maybe that’s something I could do with Franny when I get home,” she mused.

 

Well, shit _._ Now he actually wanted to take her. Take them both.

 

“Maybe the three of us could go,” he offered.

 

“I think Franny would like that,” she said.

 

“Just Franny?”

 

“And me. I would really like that, too,” she smiled at him.

 

He decided then to just ask her. He needed to know.

 

“Speaking of home, I think they’re talking about discharging me soon. I need to start looking for a place to live. I wasn’t sure if, umm, I should just get an apartment, or you know, look for something bigger.” He glanced out the window, suddenly too nervous to look her in the eye.

 

“Bigger?” she asked him, puzzled.

 

“You know, like a house. Something with a few bedrooms and maybe a yard, in case you and Franny…I mean, if you ever… if you want to, you know, spend time with me there.” He was glad he was no longer hooked up to the monitor because his heart was pounding now.

 

She didn’t say anything for a minute and he began to think that he definitely should have waited, but then she was getting up and coming to sit in his lap, putting her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. When she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes.

 

“Hey,” he said, pushing her hair back and kissing her forehead, worried. “Carrie, it’s ok. We don’t have to do that. There’s no pressure, I can just stay-”

 

“No,” she said, wiping at a tear and giving a small laugh. “It’s not that. I’m happy, Quinn. That you want to make room for us. It just makes me happy. I wasn’t sure if…,” she trailed off

 

“If what?”

 

“If you were really ready to be in this with me. I mean, I have a kid, I don’t expect-”

 

“Well, expect it,” he told her, still running his fingers lightly through her hair “because I’m all in. I mean, really, I’m the one who’s worried about putting too much pressure on _you_. You have to tell me if it’s too much, Carrie.”

 

“It’s not too much. It feels right.”

 

Carrie had pulled back to look at him and was tracing his bottom lip with her finger. She bit her own lip and he knew they were both thinking about how long it would be until they could have another night together. He kissed her then, kept kissing her, not caring about the lack of privacy. He felt some pain as he pulled her tighter, but he could give a shit about that. He was more aware of the fact that he would probably end up short of breath soon. His doctor had told him that it might take a few weeks before he was feeling back to normal, that engaging in any “rigorous” activity was not recommended until he had some more time to heal. He doubted he would be able to wait that long, he wanted her again so badly.

 

He was kissing along her jawline when Rhonda walked into the room. She stopped short at seeing them, rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to walk right back out again. They both watched her leave, looked at each other, and laughed. Carrie started to extract herself from his arms.

 

“No,” he said, tugging her back playfully.

 

“Quinn, It’s almost nine o’clock. Your physical therapist is going to walk in here soon,” she said, still laughing.

 

“ _You're_ my physical therapist,” he murmured into her neck.

 

He just wanted to keep her like this, in his arms, for the whole day. She was warm and she smelled wonderful, like lavender -- a welcome relief from the sterile hospital environment he was so sick of. He missed her terribly at night. It reminded him of the crushing loneliness he’d felt during the first few months after he’d left her. He didn’t like to be reminded of that feeling.

 

He finally had to release her when they brought in his breakfast tray. He was also really fucking tired of hospital food, but still, he ate every bit of it. He’d lost some weight in the past few weeks and needed the calories — anything to get out of here faster. Carrie sat across from him now, scrolling through the messages on her phone. She paused, frowning.

 

“Something wrong?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know. It's late back home, but Maggie wants me to call her. She says everyone’s ok, she just needs to talk to me now. I’m going to go down the hall — there’s better reception out there.”

 

She left just as Dr. Miller and his team were coming into his room. They had good news — he was being discharged on Friday, but due to his recent lung injury and complications, they were sending him home on a medical transport flight. Carrie would have to fly home separately, but that ended up happening anyway.

 

She came back looking upset, saying that Franny was sick with a bad cold and had been inconsolable, crying for her. Maggie had called so that Franny could hear her voice on the phone. He could tell she was torn, wanting to be with her sick child but afraid to leave him, so he made the decision for her.

 

“Carrie, they’re going to discharge me at the end of the week. I’m fine. Go home. Be with Franny. I’ll be right behind you.”

 

She agreed to go, but he sensed her anxiety building and he knew why. The last time they were supposed to see each other soon, he had disappeared for two years.

 

“I’ll be right behind you,” he told her again, emphatically.

 

They said goodbye that evening, before she headed to the airport. It wasn’t hard to convince her to crawl into bed with him so that he could hold her for awhile. He’d arranged with Rhonda to keep everyone out of his room until it was time for Carrie to leave. He’d held her and kissed her, made her look into his eyes when he told her that this wasn’t like the last time, that he would come home and nothing could keep him away. Finally, after saying a tearful goodbye to Rhonda and some other nurses and doctors, she left.

 

He thought he would be fine, that it was more difficult for Carrie to have to leave him, but at the exact time he knew her flight was taking off, he suddenly felt her absence so profoundly that he almost couldn’t breathe. It hit him hard, a sense of panic that he was about to be an entire continent away from her again. In an effort to fight it off, he picked up the newspaper she’d brought him and went straight to the real estate section. He needed to get himself together and start planning for what he wanted. This time, he was not fucking around.  
  
  
  
  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Inspiring this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Like Real People Do by Hozier
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms

**Author's Note:**

> I could not have done this without my beta readers, Sydney and Frangipaniflower! Thank you so much for your help and guidance, your friendship, and especially for the stories you both write that inspire me so much!


End file.
